• 


OF  CALIF.  LIBRAE*.  LOS 


BIRDS 
THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS 


BY 


FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM 

pyo  e   J\u       .-•' 


rn^i 


NEW  YORK     CLEVELAND      CHICAGO 

(L  Ijc  Cbatttatiqu.i  P 


Copyright,  1889, 
BY  FLORENCE  A.   MERRIAM. 

All  rights  reserved. 


This  edition  of  "  Birds  Through  an  Opera-Glass  " 
is  issued  for  The  Chautauqua  Press  by  Huughtou, 
Miflliu  &  Co.,  publisliers  of  the  work. 


The  River siile  Press,  Cambridge,  Mast.,  U.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Company. 


INTRODUCTION 


WHEREVER  there  are  people  there  are  birds, 
so  it  makes  comparatively  little  difference  where 
you  live,  if  you  are  only  in  earnest  about  getting 
acquainted  with  your  feathered  neighbors.  Even 
in  a  Chicago  back  yard  fifty-seven  kinds  of  birds 
have  been  seen  in  a  year,  and  in  a  yard  in  Port- 
land, Connecticut,  ninety-one  species  have  been 
recorded.  Twenty-six  kinds  are  known  to  nest 
in  the  city  of  Washington,  and  in  the  parks  and 
cemeteries  of  San  Francisco  in  winter  I  have 
found  twenty-two  kinds,  while  seventy-six  are 
recorded  for  Prospect  Park,  Brooklyn,  and  a  hun- 
dred and  forty-two  for  Central  Park,  New  York. 

There  are  especial  advantages  in  beginning  to 
study  birds  in  the  cities,  for  by  going  to  the  mu- 
seums you  can  compare  the  bird  skins  with  the 
birds  you  have  seen  in  the  field.  And,  moreover, 
you  can  get  an  idea  of  the  grouping  of  the  differ- 
ent families  which  will  help  you  materially  in 
placing  the  live  bird  when  you  meet  him  at  home. 

If  you  do  not  live  in  the  city,  as  I  have  said 
elsewhere,  "  shrubby  village  dooryards,  the  trees 
of  village  streets,  and  orchards,  roadside  fences, 


2131255 


IV  INTRODUCTION 

overgrown  pastures,  and  the  borders  of  brooks 
and  rivers  are  among  the  best  places  to  look  for 
birds."  i 

When  going  to  watch  birds,  "  provided  with 
opera-glass  and  note-book,  and  dressed  in  incon- 
spicuous colors,  proceed  to  some  good  birdy  place, 
—  the  bushy  bank  of  a  stream  or  an  old  juniper 
pasture,  —  and  sit  down  in  the  undergrowth  or 
against  a  concealing  tree-trunk,  with  your  back 
to  the  sun,  to  look  and  listen  in  silence.  You 
will  be  able  to  trace  most  songs  to  their  singers 
by  finding  which  tree  the  song  comes  from,  and 
then  watching  for  movement,  as  birds  are  rarely 
motionless  long  at  a  time  when  singing.  It  will 
be  a  help  if,  besides  writing  a  careful  descrip- 
tion of  both  bird  and  song,  you  draw  a  rough 
diagram  of  the  bird's  markings,  and  put  down 
the  actual  notes  of  his  song  as  nearly  as  may  be. 

"  If  you  have  time  for  only  a  walk  through  the 
woods,  go  as  quietly  as  possible  and  stop  often,  lis- 
tening to  catch  the  notes  which  your  footsteps  have 
drowned.  Timid  birds  may  often  be  attracted 
by  answering  their  calls,  for  it  is  very  reassuring 
to  be  addressed  in  one's  native  tongue."  2 

Birds'  habits  differ  in  different  localities,  and 
as  this  book  was  written  in  the  East,  many  birds 
are  spoken  of  as  common  which  Western  readers 
will  find  rare  or  wanting;  but  nearly  the  same 

1  Birds  of  Village  and  Field. 

2  Maynard's  Birds  of  Washington.    Introduction  by  F.  A.  M. 


INTRODUCTION  V 

families  of  birds  are  found  in  all  parts  of  the 
United  States,  so  that,  if  not  able  to  name  your 
bird  exactly,  at  least  you  will  be  able  to  tell  who 
his  relatives  are. 

Boys  who  are  interested  in  watching  the  coming 
of  the  birds  from  the  south  in  spring,  and  their 
return  from  the  north  in  the  fall,  can  get  blank 
migration  schedules  by  applying  to  the  Biological 
Survey,  Department  of  Agriculture,  Washing- 
ton, D.  C. ;  and  teachers  and  others  who  want 
material  for  bird  work  can  get,  free  on  applica- 
tion, the  publications  of  the  Biological  Survey, 
which  show  how  the  food  of  birds  affects  the 
farm  and  garden.  Much  additional  information 
can  be  obtained  from  the  secretaries  of  the  State 
Audubon  Societies,  and  their  official  organ,  "  Bird- 
Lore." 

Photography  is  coming  to  hold  an  important 
place  in  nature  work,  as  its  notes  cannot  be  ques- 
tioned, and  the  student  who  goes  afield  armed 
with  opera-glass  and  camera  will  not  only  add 
more  to  our  knowledge  than  he  who  goes  armed 
with  a  gun,  but  will  gain  for  himself  a  fund  of 
enthusiasm  and  a  lasting  store  of  pleasant  mem- 
ories. For  more  than  all  the  statistics  is  the 
sanity  and  serenity  of  spirit  that  comes  when  we 
step  aside  from  the  turmoil  of  the  world  to  hold 
quiet  converse  with  Nature. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM. 
WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  May  11,  1899. 


CONTENTS. 


I.  The  Robin 4 

II.  The  Crow 10 

III.  The  Bluebird 14 

IV.  The  Chimney  Swift;  Chimney  "Swallow"      .  16 
V.  Catbird 18 

VI.  Keel-Tailed  Blackbird;  Crow  Blackbird ;  Bronzed 

Grackle 20 

VII.  Bobolink;  Reed-Bird;  Rice-Bird        ...  27 

VIII.  Ruffed  Grouse ;  Partridge         ....  32 

IX.  Ruby-Throated  Humming-Bird    ....  36 

X.  Meadow-Lark 40 

XI.  Black-Capped  Chickadee ;  Titmouse    ...  42 

XII.  Cuckoo;  Rain  Crow 46 

XIII.  Yellow  Hammer;  Flicker 48 

XTV.  Baltimore  Oriole ;  Fire-Bird ;  Golden  Robin ;  Hang- 
Nest        52 

XV.  Barn  Swallow        .         .        .        .         .        .        .55 

XVI.  Belted  Kingfisher 57 

XVII.  Chip-Bird  or  Chippy ;  Hair-Bird ;  Chipping  Spar- 
row ;  Social  Sparrow  ......  60 

XVIII.  Song  Sparrow 66 

XIX.  Blue  Jay 69 

XX.  Yellow-Bird;  American  Goldfinch;    Thistle-Bird  76 

XXI.  Phoebe 80 

XXH.  King-Bird ;  Bee  Martin 83 

XXIII.  Wood  Pewee 85 

XXIV.  Least  Flycatcher 87 

XXV.  Red-Winged  Blackbird 89 

XXVI.  Hairy  Woodpecker 92 


via  CONTENTS. 

XXVII.  Downy  Woodpecker 99 

XXVIII.  White-Bellied  Nuthatch ;  Devil-Down  Head  .  100 

XXIX.  Cowbird 105 

XXX.  White-Throated  Sparrow         ....  109 

XXXI.  Cedar-Bird;  Waxwing         .        .         .        .  112 

XXXII.  Chewink;  Towhee 115 

XXXIII.  Indigo-Bird 119 

XXXIV.  Purple  Finch 122 

XXXV.  Red-Eyed  Vireo 124 

XXXVI.  Yellow-Throated  Vireo 129 

XXXVII.  Warbling  Vireo 131 

XXXVIII.  Oven-Bird ;  Golden-Crowned  Thrush       .        .  132 

XXXIX.  Junco;  Slate-Colored  Snowbird  .         .        .  138 

XL.  Kinglets 140 

XLI.  Snow  Bunting ;  Snow  flake    ....  144 

XLII.  Scarlet  Tanager 146 

XLIII.  Brown  Thrasher 150 

XLIV.  Rose-Breasted  Grosbeak 153 

XLV.  Whippoorwill 155 

XLVL  Winter  Wren 155 

XLVTI.  Red-Headed  Woodpecker     ....  159 

XLVIII.  Yellow-Bellied  Sapsucker        ....  100 

XLIX.  Great-Crested  Flycatcher      ....  163 

L.  Bank  Swallow ;  Sand  Martin    ....  165 

LI.  Eave  Swallow ;  Cliff  Swallow       ...  166 

LII.  Crossbills 166 

LHI.  Night-Hawk ;  Bull  Bat        ....  169 
LIV.  Grass  Finch;    Vesper  Sparrow;   Bay -Winged 

Bunting .171 

LV.  Tree  Sparrow 172 

LVI.  White-Crowned  Sparrow          .         .         .        .173 

LVII.  Field  Sparrow ;  Bush  Sparrow     ...  174 

LVIII.  Fox  Sparrow 175 

LIX.  Brown  Creeper    ......  176 

WARBLERS. 

LX.  Summer  Yellow-Bird;   Golden  Warbler;  Yel- 
low Warbler 179 

LX1.  Redstart  180 


CONTENTS.  ix 

f/XTT.  Black  and  White  Creeping  Warbler        .         .     184 
LXIII.  Blackburnian    Warbler;    Hemlock    Warbler; 

Orange-Throated  Warbler         ...        186 

LXW.  Black-Throated  Blue  Warbler         .        .        .187 

LXV.  Yellow  Humped  Warbler;  Myrtle  Warbler         189 

LXVI.  ChestnutSided  Warbler 190 

LXVII.  Maryland     Yellow-Throat ;      Black     Masked 

Ground  Warbler 191 

LXVni.  Thrushes 193 

LXIX.  Wilson's  Thrush ;  Veery ;  Tawny  Thrush  .         198 
LXX.  Hermit  Thrush 202 

APPENDIX. 

Pigeon-Holes  for  the  Perching  Birds  mentioned  in  this 
book    ..........        206 

General  Family  Characteristics  of  Birds  Treated  .  .  208 
Arbitrary  Classifications  of  Birds  Described  .  .  .  211 
Books  for  Reference  ...  .  .  220 


BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 


WE  are  so  in  the  habit  of  focusing  our  spy- 
glasses on  our  human  neighbors  that  it  seems  an 
easy  matter  to  label  them  and  their  affairs,  but 
when  it  comes  to  birds,  —  alas !  not  only  are  there 
legions  of  kinds,  but,  to  our  bewildered  fancy, 
they  look  and  sing  and  act  exactly  alike.  Yet 
though  our  task  seems  hopeless  at  the  outset,  be- 
fore we  recognize  the  conjurer  a  new  world  of  in- 
terest and  beauty  has  opened  before  us. 

The  best  way  is  the  simplest.  Begin  with  the 
commonest  birds,  and  train  your  ears  and  eyes  by 
pigeon-holing  every  bird  you  see  and  every  song 
you  hear.  Classify  roughly  at  first,  —  the  finer 
distinctions  will  easily  be  made  later.  Suppose, 
for  instance,  you  are  in  the  fields  on  a  spring 
morning.  Standing  still  a  moment,  you  hear 
what  sounds  like  a  confusion  of  songs.  You  think 
you  can  never  tell  one  from  another,  but  by  listen- 
ing carefully  you  at  once  notice  a  difference.  Some 
are  true  songs,  with  a  definite  melody,  —  and  tune, 
if  one  may  use  that  word,  —  like  the  song  of  several 
of  the  sparrows,  with  three  high  notes  and  a  run 


2          BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

down  the  scale.  Others  are  only  monotonous 
trills,  always  the  same  two  notes,  varying  only  in 
length  and  intensity,  such  as  that  of  the  chipping 
bird,  who  makes  one's  ears  fairly  ache  as  he  sits 
in  the  sun  and  trills  to  himself,  like  a  complacent 
prima  donna.  Then  there  is  always  plenty  of  gos- 
siping going  on,  chippering  and  chattering  that 
does  not  rise  to  the  dignity  of  song,  though  it  adds 
to  the  general  jumble  of  sounds  ;  but  this  should 
be  ignored  at  first,  and  only  the  loud  songs  lis- 
tened for.  When  the  trill  and  the  elaborate  song 
are  once  contrasted,  other  distinctions  are  easily 
made.  The  ear  then  catches  the  quality  of  songs. 
On  the  right  the  plaintive  note  of  the  meadow- 
lark  is  heard,  while  out  of  the  grass  at  the  left 
comes  the  rollicking  song  of  the  bobolink. 

Having  begun  sorting  sounds,  you  naturally 
group  sights,  and  so  find  yourself  parceling  out 
the  birds  by  size  and  color.  As  the  robin  is  a 
well-known  bird,  he  serves  as  a  convenient  unit 
of  measure  —  an  ornithological  foot.  If  you  call 
anything  from  a  humming-bird  to  a  robin  small, 
and  from  a  robin  to  a  crow  large,  you  have  a 
practical  division  line,  of  use  in  getting  your 
bearings.  And  the  moment  you  give  heed  to  col- 
ors, the  birds  will  no  longer  look  alike.  To  sim- 
plify matters,  the  bluebird,  the  oriole  with  his 
orange  and  black  coat,  the  scarlet  tanager  with 
his  flaming  plumage,  and  all  the  other  bright  birds 
can  be  classed  together ;  while  the  sparrows,  fly- 


BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS.         3 

catchers,  thrushes,  and  vireos  may  be  thought  of 
as  the  dull  birds. 

When  the  crudest  part  of  the  work  is  done,  and 
your  eye  and  ear  naturally  seize  differences  of  size, 
color,  and  sound,  the  interesting  part  begins.  You 
soon  learn  to  associate  the  birds  with  fixed  local- 
ities, and  once  knowing  their  favorite  haunts, 
quickly  find  other  clues  to  their  ways  of  life. 

By  going  among  the  birds,  watching  them 
closely,  comparing  them  carefully,  and  writing 
down,  while  in  the  field,  all  the  characteristics  of 
every  new  bird  seen,  —  its  locality,  size,  color,  de- 
tails of  marking,  song,  food,  flight,  eggs,  nest, 
and  habits,  —  you  will  come  easily  and  naturally 
to  know  the  birds  that  are  living  about  you.  The 
first  law  of  field  work  is  exact  observation,  but 
not  only  are  you  more  likely  to  observe  accurately 
if  what  you  see  is  put  in  black  and  white,  but 
you  will  find  it  much  easier  to  identify  the  birds 
from  your  notes  than  from  memory. 

With  these  hints  in  mind,  go  to  look  for  your 
friends.  Carry  a  pocket  note-book,  and  above  all, 
take  an  opera  or  field  glass  with  you.  Its  rapid 
adjustment  may  be  troublesome  at  first,  but  it 
should  be  the  "  inseparable  article  "  of  a  careful 
observer.  If  you  begin  work  in  spring,  don't 
start  out  before  seven  o'clock,  because  the  confu- 
sion of  the  matins  is  discouraging  —  there  is  too 
much  to  see  and  hear.  But  go  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble after  breakfast,  for  the  birds  grow  quiet  and 


4          BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

fly   to  the  woods  for  their  nooning  earlier  and 
earlier  as  the  weather  gets  warmer. 

You  will  not  have  to  go  far  to  find  your  first 
bird. 


THE  ROBIN. 

NEXT  to  the  crow,  the  robin  is  probably  our  best 
known  bird  ;  but  as  a  few  of  his  city  friends  have 
never  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet  him,  and  as  he 
is  to  be  our  "  unit  of  measure,"  it  behooves  us  to 
consider  him  well.  He  is,  as  every  one  knows,  a 
domestic  bird,  with  a  marked  bias  for  society. 
Everything  about  him  bespeaks  the  self-respecting 
American  citizen.  He  thinks  it  no  liberty  to  dine 
in  your  front  yard,  or  build  his  house  in  a  crotch  of 
your  piazza,  with  the  help  of  the  string  you  have 
inadvertently  left  within  reach.  Accordingly,  he 
fares  well,  and  keeps  fat  on  cherries  and  straw- 
berries if  the  supply  of  fish-worms  runs  low.  Mr. 
Robin  has  one  nervous  mannerism  —  he  jerks  his 
tail  briskly  when  excited.  But  he  is  not  always 
looking  for  food  as  the  woodpeckers  appear  to  be, 
nor  flitting  about  with  nervous  restlessness  like  the 
warblers,  and  has,  on  the  whole,  a  calm,  dignified 
air.  With  time  to  meditate  when  he  chooses,  like 
other  sturdy,  well-fed  people,  his  reflections  usually 
take  a  cheerful  turn ;  and  when  he  lapses  into  a 
poetical  mood,  as  he  often  does  at  sunrise  and 


THE  ROBIN.  5 

sunset,  sitting  on  a  branch  in  the  softened  light 
and  whispering  a  little  song  to  himself,  his  senti- 
ment is  the  wholesome  every-day  sort,  with  none 
of  the  sadness  or  longing  of  his  cousins,  the 
thrushes,  but  full  of  contented  appreciation  of  the 
beautiful  world  he  lives  in. 


Unlike  some  of  his  human  friends,  his  content 
does  not  check  his  activity.  He  is  full  of  buoyant 
life.  He  may  always  be  heard  piping  up  above 
the  rest  of  the  daybreak  chorus,  and  I  have  seen 
him  sit  on  top  of  a  stub  in  a  storm  when  it  seemed 
as  if  the  harder  it  rained  the  louder  and  more  ju- 
bilantly he  sang.  He  has  plenty  of  pluck  and 
industry,  too,  for  every  season  he  dutifully  accepts 
the  burden  of  seeing  three  or  four  broods  of  bird 
children  through  all  the  dangers  of  cats,  hawks, 


6         BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

and  first  flights  ;  keeping  successive  nestfuls  of 
gaping  mouths  supplied  with  worms  all  the  sum- 
mer through. 

His  red  breast  is  a  myth  and  belongs  to  his 
English  namesake  ;  and  it  must  be  owned  that 
his  is  a  homely  reddish  brown  that  looks  red  only 
when  the  sunlight  falls  on  it.  His  wife's  breast 
is  even  less  red  than  his  —  in  fact,  she  looks  as  if 
the  rain  had  washed  off  most  of  her  color.  But, 
perhaps,  had  they  been  beautiful  they  would  have 
been  vain,  and  then,  alas  for  the  robins  we  know 
and  love  now.  When  the  children  make  their 
debut,  they  are  more  strikingly  homely  than  their 
parents  ;  possibly  because  we  have  known  the  old 
birds  until,  like  some  of  our  dearest  friends,  their 
plainness  has  become  beautif  id  to  us.  In  any  case, 
the  eminently  speckled  young  gentlemen  that  come 
out  with  their  new  tight-fitting  suits  and  awkward 
ways  do  not  meet  their  father's  share  of  favor. 

Perhaps  the  nest  they  come  from  accounts  for 
their  lack  of  polish.  It  is  compact  and  strong, 
built  to  last,  and  to  keep  out  the  rain ;  but  with 
no  thought  of  beauty.  In  building  their  houses 
the  robins  do  not  follow  our  plan,  but  begin  with 
the  frame  and  work  in.  When  the  twigs  and 
weed  stems  are  securely  placed  they  put  on  the 
plaster  —  a  thick  layer  of  mud  that  the  bird 
moulds  with  her  breast  till  it  is  as  hard  and 
smooth  as  a  plaster  cast.  And  inside  of  all,  for 
cleanliness  and  comfort,  they  lay  a  soft  lining  of 


THE  ROBIN.  7 

dried  grass.  This  is  the  typical  nest,  but  of  course, 
there  are  marked  variations  from  it.  Usually  it 
is  firmly  fixed  in  the  crotch  of  a  branch  or  close 
to  the  body  of  the  tree  where  its  weight  can  be 
supported. 

But  who  does  not  know  instances  of  oddly 
placed  nests  outside  of  trees?  The  "American 
Naturalist"  records  one  "on  the  top  of  a  long 
pole,  which  stood  without  support  in  an  open  barn- 
yard," and  Audubon  notes  one  within  a  few  feet 
of  a  blacksmith's  anvil.  A  number  of  interesting 
sites  have  come  within  my  notice.  Among  them 
are :  the  top  of  a  blind ;  an  eave  trough ;  a  shingle 
that  projected  over  the  inner  edge  of  an  open  shed ; 
and,  most  singular  of  all,  one  inside  a  milk-house, 
set  precariously  on  the  rim  of  a  barrel  that  lay  on 
its  side,  just  above  the  heads  of  the  men  who  not 
only  appeared  both  night  and  morning  with  alarm- 
ingly big  milk  pails,  but  made  din  enough  in  ply- 
ing a  rattling  creaky  pump  handle  to  have  sent 
any  ordinary  bird  bolting  through  the  window. 

Robins  usually  nest  comparatively  high,  though 
Audubon  tells  of  a  nest  found  on  a  bare  rock  on 
the  ground,  and  this  summer  I  found  one  in  the 
crotch  of  a  small  tree  only  two  and  a  half  feet 
from  the  earth.  It  was  near  a  hen  yard,  so  per- 
haps Madam  Robin  was  following  the  fashion  by 
laying  her  eggs  near  the  ground.  In  any  case, 
she  was  on  visiting  terms  with  the  hen-roost,  for, 
singularly  enough,  there  were  feathers  plastered 


8         BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

about  the  adobe  wall,  though  none  inside.  Per- 
haps the  weather  was  too  warm  for  a  feather  bed ! 
—  or  was  this  frivolous  lady  bird  thinking  so 
much  of  fashion  and  adornment  she  could  spare 
no  time  on  homely  comfort  ? 
Longfellow  says : 

"There  are  no  birds  in  last  year's  nest," 

but  on  a  brace  in  an  old  cow  shed  I  know  of,  there 
is  a  robin's  nest  that  has  been  used  for  several 
years.  A  layer  of  new  material  has  been  added 
to  the  old  structure  each  time,  so  that  it  is  now 
eight  inches  high  and  bids  fair  soon  to  rival  the 
fourteen  story  flat  houses  of  New  York.  A  re- 
markable case  is  given  in  the  "  Naturalist  "  of  a 
robin  that  had  no  "  bump  of  locality,"  and  distri- 
buted its  building  material  impartially  over  nearly 
thirty  feet  of  the  outer  cornice  of  a  house. 

You  may  look  for  robins  almost  anywhere,  but 
they  usually  prefer  dry  open  land,  or  the  edge  of 
woodland,  being  averse  to  the  secluded  life  of 
their  relatives,  the  thrushes,  who  build  in  the  for- 
est. Those  I  find  in  the  edge  of  the  woods  are 
much  shyer  than  those  living  about  the  house, 
probably  from  the  same  reason  that  robins  and 
others  of  our  most  friendly  Eastern  birds  are  wild 
and  suspicious  in  the  uninhabited  districts  of  the 
West  —  or,  who  wiD  say  there  are  no  recluses 
among  birds  as  well  as  men  ? 

The  flight  and  song  of  the  robin  are  character- 
istic. The  flight  is  rapid,  clear  cut,  and  straight. 


THE  ROBIN.  9 

Unlike  many  birds,  he  moves  as  if  he  were  going 
somewhere.  His  voice  is  a  strong  clear  treble, 
loud  and  cheerful,  but  he  is  not  a  musician,  and 
has  no  one  set  song.  His  commonest  call  has  two 
parts,  each  of  three  notes  run  together  ;  the  first 
with  a  rising,  the  last  with  a  falling  inflection, 
like,  tril-la-ree,  tril-la-rah  ;  trU-la-ree,  tril-la-rah. 
But  he  has  a  number  of  calls,  and  you  must  be 
familiar  with  the  peculiar  treble  quality  of  his 
note  to  avoid  confusing  it  with  others. 
In  the  fall,  Lowell  says, 

"  The  sobered  robin  hunger-silent  now, 
Seeks  cedar-berries  blue,  his  autumn  cheer," 

and  this  "  sobered  "  suggests  a  question.  Why  is 
it  that  as  soon  as  robins  form  flocks,  they  become 
shy  ?  Is  it  because  they  are  more  often  shot  at 
when  migrating  in  large  numbers  ;  or  because,  as 
Mr.  William  Hubbell  Fisher  suggests,  they  have 
left  their  homes,  and  so  have  lost  confidence  in 
the  surroundings  and  people  ? 

In  some  localities  they  live  on  cedar-berries  in 
the  fall,  but  here  they  are  well  satisfied  with 
mountain  ash  berries,  wild  cherries,  and  ungath- 
ered  crab  apples.  Speaking  of  their  food,  what  a 
pity  that  anglers  cannot  contract  with  them  for  a 
supply  of  bait !  Woe  betide  the  fish-worm  that 
stirs  the  grass  on  the  lawn  within-  their  hearing ! 
How  wise  they  look  as  they  cock  their  heads  on 
one  side  and  stand,  erect  and  motionless,  peering 
down  on  the  ground.  And  what  a  surprise  it 


10        BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

must  be  to  the  poor  worm  when  they  suddenly  tip 
forward,  give  a  few  rapid  hops,  and  diving  into 
the  grass  drag  him  out  of  his  retreat.  Though 
they  run  from  a  chicken,  robins  will  chase  chip- 
munks and  fight  with  red  squirrels  in  defense  of 
their  nests  or  young. 


IL 

THE   CROW. 

THE  despised  crow  is  one  of  our  most  interest- 
ing birds.  His  call  is  like  the  smell  of  the  brown 
furrows  in  spring  —  life  is  more  sound  and  whole- 
some for  it.  Though  the  crow  has  no  song,  what 
a  variety  of  notes  and  tones  he  can  boast!  In 
vocabulary,  he  is  a  very  Shakespeare  among  birds. 
Listening  to  a  family  of  Frenchmen,  though  you 
do  not  know  a  word  of  French,  you  easily  guess 
the  temper  and  drift  of  their  talk,  and  so  it  is  in 
listening  to  crows  —  tone,  inflection,  gesture,  all 
betray  their  secrets.  One  morning  last  October 
I  caught,  in  this  way,  a  spicy  chapter  in  crow  fam- 
ily discipline. 

I  was  standing  in  a  meadow  of  rich  aftermath 
lying  between  a  stony  pasture  and  a  small  piece 
of  woods,  when  a  young  crow  flew  over  my  head, 
cawing  softly  to  himself.  He  flew  straight  west 
toward  the  pasture  for  several  seconds,  and  then, 
as  if  an  idea  had  come  to  him,  turned  his  head 


THE  CROW.  11 

and  neck  around  in  the  intelligent  crow  fashion, 
circled  back  to  the  woods,  lit,  and  cawed  vocifer- 
ously to  three  other  crows  till  they  came  over 
across  the  pasture. 

After  making  them  all  circle  over  my  head,  per- 
haps merely  as  a  blind,  he  took  them  back  to  his 
perch  where  he  wanted  them  to  go  beechnutting 
—  or  something  else.  Whatever  it  was,  they  evi- 
dently scorned  his  childishness,  for  they  flew  back 
to  their  tree  across  the  field  as  fast  as  they  had 
come.  This  put  him  in  a  pet,  and  he  would  not 
budge,  but  sat  there  sputtering  like  a  spoiled 
child.  To  everything  he  said,  whether  in  a  com- 
plaining or  teasing  tone,  the  same  gruff  paternal 
caw  came  back  from  the  pasture.  "  Come  along !  " 
it  seemed  to  say.  To  this  the  refractory  son  would 
respond,  "  I  won't."  They  kept  it  up  for  several 
minutes,  but  at  last  paternal  authority  conquered, 
and  the  big  boy,  making  a  wide  detour,  flew  slowly 
and  reluctantly  back  to  his  family.  He  lit  on  a 
low  branch  under  them,  and  when  the  father  gave 
a  gruff  "  I  should  think  it  was  time  you  came,"  he 
defiantly  shook  his  tail  and  cleaned  his  bill.  After 
a  few  moments  he  condescended  to  make  a  low 
half  sullen,  half  subdued  remark,  but  when  the 
family  all  started  off  again  he  sat  and  scolded 
some  time  before  he  would  follow  them,  and  I 
suspect  he  compromised  matters  then  only  because 
he  did  not  want  to  be  left  behind. 

The  "  inteUigence  of  the  crow  *'  has  become  a 


12      BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

platitude,  but  when  we  hear  of  his  cracking  clams 
by  dropping  them  on  a  fence,  coming  to  roost  with 
the  hens  in  cold  weather,  and  —  in  the  case  of  a 
tame  crow  —  opening  a  door  by  lighting  on  the 
latch,  his  originality  is  a  surprise.  A  family  near 
here  had  much  merriment  over  the  gambols  of  a 
pet  crow  named  Jim.  Whenever  he  saw  the  gar- 
dener passing  to  and  fro  between  the  house  and 
garden,  he  would  fly  down  from  the  trees,  light  on 
his  hat,  and  ride  back  and  forth.  He  liked  to 
pick  the  bright  blossoms,  particularly  pansies  and 
scarlet  geraniums,  and  would  not  only  steal  bright 
colored  worsteds  and  ribbons,  but  tear  all  the  yel- 
low covers  from  any  novels  he  came  across.  When 
any  one  went  to  the  vegetable  garden  he  showed 
the  most  commendable  eagerness  to  help  with  the 
work,  being  anxious  to  pick  whatever  was  wanted 
—  from  raspberries  and  currants  to  the  little  cu- 
cumbers gathered  for  pickling. 

The  sight  of  the  big  black  puppy  waddling 
along  wagging  high  in  air  a  long  black  tail  in- 
congruously finished  off  with  a  tipping  of  white 
hairs  was  too  much  for  Jim's  sobriety.  Down  he 
would  dive,  give  a  nip  at  the  hairs,  and  be  gravely 
seated  on  a  branch  just  out  of  reach  by  the  time 
Bruno  had  turned  to  snap  at  him.  Let  the  puppy 
move  on  a  step,  and  down  the  mischief  would  come 
again,  and  so  the  two  would  play  —  sometimes  for 
more  than  half  an  hour  at  a  time.  Then  again, 
the  joke  would  take  a  more  practical  turn,  for,  in- 


THE   CROW.  13 

stead  of  flying  overhead  when  Bruno  looked  back, 
Jim  would  steal  the  bone  the  puppy  had  been 
gnawing. 

The  crow  was  happy  as  long  as  any  one  would 
play  with  him,  and  never  tired  of  flying  low  over 
the  ground  with  a  string  dangling  from  his  bill  for 
the  children  to  run  after.  Another  favorite  play 
was  to  hold  on  to  a  string  or  small  stick  with  his 
bill  while  some  one  lifted  him  up  by  it,  as  a  baby 
is  tossed  by  its  arms.  He  would  even  hold  on  and 
let  you  "  swing  him  around  your  head."  He  was 
never  daunted,  and  when  the  toddling  two-year- 
old  would  get  too  rough  in  her  play  and  strike  at 
him  with  her  stick,  he  would  either  catch  the  hem 
of  her  pinafore  and  hold  on  till  she  ran  away,  or 
would  try  scaring  her,  rushing  at  her  —  his  big 
black  wings  spread  out  and  his  bill  wide  open. 

One  day  his  pluck  was  thoroughly  tested. 
Hearing  loud  caws  of  distress  coming  from  the 
lawn,  the  gardener  rushed  across  and  found  Jim 
lying  on  his  back,  his  claw  tightly  gripping  the 
end  of  one  of  the  wings  of  a  large  hawk,  that, 
surprised  and  terrified  by  this  turn  of  the  tables 
was  struggling  frantically  to  get  away.  Jim  held 
him  as  tight  as  a  vise,  and  only  loosened  his  grasp 
to  give  his  enemy  into  the  gardener's  hands.  After 
letting  go  he  submitted  to  the  victor's  reward,  let- 
ting his  wounds  be  examined  and  his  bravery  ex- 
tolled while  he  was  carried  about  —  wearing  a 
most  consciously  heroic  air,  it  must  be  confessed 
—  for  due  celebration  of  the  victory. 


14    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

III. 

THE    BLUEBIRD. 

As  you  stroll  through  the  meadows  on  a  May 
morning,  drinking  in  the  spring  air  and  sunshine, 
and  delighting  in  the  color  of  the  dandelions  and 
the  big  bunches  of  blue  violets  that  dot  the  grass, 
a  bird  call  comes  quavering  overhead  that  seems 
the  voice  of  all  country  loveliness.  Simple,  sweet, 
and  fresh  as  the  spirit  of  the  meadows,  with  a 
tinge  of  forest  richness  in  the  plaintive  tru-al-ly 
that  marks  the  rhythm  of  our  bluebird's  undulat- 
ing flight,  wherever  the  song  is  heard,  from  city 
street  or  bird-box,  it  must  bring  pictures  of  flower- 
ing fields,  blue  skies,  and  the  freedom  of  the 
wandering  summer  winds. 

Look  at  the  bluebird  now  as  he  goes  over  your 
head  —  note  the  cinnamon  of  his  breast ;  and  as 
he  flies  down  and  turns  quickly  to  light  on  the 
fence  post,  see  the  cobalt-blue  that  flashes  from 
his  back.  These  colors  are  the  poet's  signs  that 
the  bird's  sponsors  are  the  "  earth  and  sky."  And 
the  little  creature  has  a  wavering  way  of  lifting 
its  wings  when  perching,  as  if  hesitating  between 
earth  and  sky,  that  may  well  carry  out  the  poet's 
hint  of  his  wild  ethereal  spirit. 

Notice  the  bluebird's  place  in  literature.  The 
robin,  with  his  cheerful  soprano  call,  serves  as  the 
emblem  of  domestic  peace  and  homely  cheer ;  but 


THE  BLUEBIRD.  15 

the  bluebird,  with  his  plaintive  contralto  warble, 
stirs  the  imagination,  and  is  used  as  the  poetic 
symbol  of  spring.  The  temper  of  the  bluebird 
makes  him  a  fit  subject  for  the  poet's  encomiums. 
Mr.  Burroughs  goes  so  far  as  to  say  that  "the 
expression  of  his  indignation  is  nearly  as  musical 
as  his  song." 

Lowell  speaks  of  the  bluebird  as 

' '  shifting1  his  light  load  of  song 
From  post  to  post  along  the  cheerless  fence." 

But  although  he  is  as  restless  and  preoccupied 
here  as  elsewhere,  lifting  his  wings  tremulously  as 
if  in  reality  "  shifting  his  load  of  song,"  and  long- 
ing to  fly  away,  the  bluebird  sometimes  comes 
down  to  the  prose  of  life  even  here  and  actually 
hides  his  nest  in  the  hole  of  a  fence  rail.  When 
this  is  not  his  fancy  he  fits  up  an  old  woodpecker's 
hole  in  a  post,  stub,  or  tree ;  or,  if  more  social  in 
his  habits,  builds  in  knot-holes  in  the  sides  of 
barns,  or  in  bird-boxes  arranged  for  his  use.  At 
Northampton  I  was  shown  a  nest  in  an  old  stub 
by  the  side  of  the  road,  so  shallow  that  the  father 
and  mother  birds  fed  their  young  from  the  out- 
side, clinging  to  the  sides  of  the  hole  and  reaching 
in  to  drop  the  food  into  the  open  mouths  below. 

Although  the  bluebird  has  such  a  model  temper, 
it  has  not  always  a  clear  idea  of  the  laws  of  meum 
and  tuurn,  as  was  shown  by  a  nest  found  directly 
on  top  of  a  poor  swallow's  nest  where  there  lay 
four  fresh  eggs !  The  nest  is  usually  lined  with 


16       BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

dry  grasses  and  similar  materials.  The  eggs, 
from  four  to  seven  in  number,  are  generally  plain 
pale  greenish  blue,  but  occasionally  white. 

Sitting  on  a  fence  at  a  little  distance  the  young 
birds  look  almost  black,  but  as  they  fly  off  you 
catch  a  tinge  of  blue  on  their  wings  and  tails. 
Their  mother  is  more  like  her  husband,  but,  as 
with  most  lady  birds,  her  tints  are  subdued  — 
doubtless  the  result  of  "adaptation,"  as  bright 
colors  on  the  back  of  the  brooding  mother  would 
attract  danger. 

We  have  two  reasons  for  gratitude  to  the  blue- 
bird. It  comes  home  early  in  the  spring,  and  is 
among  the  last  to  leave  in  the  fall,  its  sweet  note 
trembling  on  the  air  when  the  "  bare  branches  of 
the  trees  are  rattling  in  the  wind." 

IV. 

CHIMNEY  SWIFT;  CHIMNEY  "SWALLOW."' 

WATCH  a  chimney  swift  as  he  comes  near  you, 
rowing  through  the  air  first  with  one  wing  and 
then  the  other,  or  else  cruising  along  with  sails 
set.  Look  at  him  carefully  and  you  will  see  that 
he  is  not  a  swallow,  although  he  often  goes  by 
that  name.  He  looks  much  more  like  a  bat.  His 
outlines  are  so  clear  cut  and  angular  that  he  could 
be  reduced,  roughly,  to  two  triangles,  their  com- 
mon base  cutting  his  body  vertically  in  halves. 


CHIMNEY  SWIFT.  17 

His  tail  is,  of  itself,  an  acute-angled  triangle  ter- 
minating merely  in  bristles  ;  and  his  wings  look 
as  if  made  of  skin  stretched  on  a  frame,  bat 
fashion,  instead  of  being  of  feathers. 

He  twitters  in  a  sharp  chippering  way  as  he 
flutters  through  the  air  and  picks  up  flies,  saying, 
as  Mr.  Burroughs  puts  it,  "  chippy-chippy-chirio, 
not  a  man  in  Dario  can  catch  a  chippy-chippy- 
chirio."  And  you  are  inclined  to  believe  the 
boast  —  such  zigzag  darting,  such  circling  and 
running!  The  men  of  Dario  would  need  seven 
league  wings  to  keep  up  with  him,  and  then,  after 
a  lightning  race,  when  just  ready  to  throw  their 
pinch  of  salt,  with  a  sudden  wheel  the  chippy- 
chirio  would  dart  down  a  chimney  and  disappear 
Irom  sight. 

And  what  a  noise  these  swifts  do  make  in  the 
chimneys !  If  you  ever  had  a  room  beside  one  of 
their  lodging-houses  you  can  testify  to  their  "  noc- 
turnal habits  during  the  nesting  season."  Such 
chattering  and  jabbering,  such  rushing  in  and 
scrambling  out !  If  you  only  could  get  your  spy- 
glass inside  the  chimney!  Their  curious  little 
nests  are  glued  against  the  sides  like  tiny  wall 
pockets ;  and  there  the  swifts  roost,  or  rather 
hang,  clinging  to  the  wall,  side  by  side,  like  little 
sooty  bats.  Audubon  says  that  before  the  young 
birds  are  strong  enough  to  fly  they  clamber  up 
to  the  mouths  of  the  chimneys  as  the  pitifully  tri- 
umphant chimney-sweeps  used  to  come  up  for  a 


18       BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

breath  and  wave  their  brooms  in  the  air  at  their 
escape  from  the  dangers  below.  Though  never 
venturing  near  us  the  swifts  come  to  live  inside 
our  houses.  Like  the  robin  they  are  citizens,  but 
what  a  contrast ! 

Their  feet  are  weak  from  disuse,  and  it  is  be- 
lieved that  they  never  light  anywhere  except  in  a 
chimney  or  in  a  hollow  tree,  where  they  sometimes 
go  at  night  and  in  bad  weather.  They  gather  the 
twigs  they  glue  together  for  their  nests  while  on 
the  wing,  and  their  ingenuity  in  doing  it  shows 
how  averse  they  are  to  lighting.  Audubon  says : 
"  The  chimney  swallows  are  seen  in  great  numbers 
whirling  around  the  tops  of  some  decayed  or  dead 
tree,  as  if  in  pursuit  of  their  insect  prey.  Their 
movements  at  this  time  are  exceedingly  rapid; 
they  throw  their  body  suddenly  against  the  twig, 
grapple  it  with  their  feet,  and  by  an  instantaneous 
jerk  snap  it  off  short,  and  proceed  with  it  to  the 
place  intended  for  the  nest." 

V. 

CATBIRD. 

HIGH  trees  have  an  unsocial  aspect,  and  so,  as 
Lowell  says,  "The  catbird  croons  in  the  lilac- 
bush,"  in  the  alders,  in  a  prickly  ash  copse,  a  bar- 
berry-bush, or  by  the  side  of  the  garden.  In 
Northampton  one  of  his  favorite  haunts  is  an  old 


CATBIRD.  19 

orchard  that  slopes  down  to  the  edge  of  Mill 
River.  Here  he  is  welcomed  every  year  by  his 
college  girl  friends ;  and  in  the  open  seclusion  of 
an  apple-tree  proceeds  to  build  his  nest  and  raise 
his  little  family,  singing  through  it  all  with  keen 
enjoyment  of  the  warm  sunshine  and  his  own  com- 
pany. 

To  the  tyro  the  catbird  is  at  once  the  most  in- 
teresting and  most  exasperating  of  birds.  Like 
some  people,  he  seems  to  give  up  his  time  to  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  himself  talk.  A  first  cousin 
of  the  mocking-bird  —  whom  he  resembles  in  per- 
son much  more  than  in  voice  —  perhaps  the  re- 
lationship accounts  for  his  overweening  confidence 
in  his  vocal  powers.  As  a  matter  of  fact  his  jerky 
utterance  is  so  harsh  that  it  has  been  aptly  termed 
asthmatic. 

The  catbird  is  unmistakably  a  Bohemian.  He 
is  exquisitely  formed,  and  has  a  beautiful  slate- 
gray  coat,  set  off  by  his  black  head  and  tail.  By 
nature  he  is  peculiarly  graceful,  and  when  he 
chooses  can  pass  for  the  most  polished  of  the 
Philistine  aristocracy.  But  he  cares  nothing  for 
all  this.  With  lazy  self-indulgence  he  sits  by  the 
hour  with  relaxed  muscles,  and  listlessly  drooping 
wings  and  tail.  If  he  were  a  man  you  feel  con- 
fident that  he  would  sit  in  shirt  sleeves  at  home 
and  go  on  the  street  without  a  collar. 

And  his  occupation  ?  His  cousin  is  an  artist, 
but  he  —  is  he  a  wag  as  well  as  a  caricaturist,  or 


20      BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

is  he  in  sober  earnest  when  he  tries  to  mimic  the 
inimitable  Wilson's  thrush?  If  a  wag  he  is  a 
success,  for  he  deceives  the  unguarded  into  believ- 
ing him  a  robin,  a  cat,  and  —  "a  bird  new  to 
science !  "  How  he  must  chuckle  over  the  enthu- 
siasm which  hails  his  various  notes  and  the  bewil- 
derment and  chagrin  that  come  to  the  diligent 
observer  who  finally  catches  a  glimpse  of  the  gar- 
rulous mimic ! 

The  catbird  builds  his  nest  as  he  does  every- 
thing else.  The  loose  mass  of  coarse  twigs  patched 
up  with  pieces  of  newspaper  or  anything  he  hap- 
pens to  fancy,  looks  as  if  it  would  hardly  bear  his 
weight.  He  lines  it,  however,  with  fine  bits  of 
brown  and  black  roots,  and  when  the  beautiful 
dark  green  eggs  are  laid  in  it,  you  feel  sure  that 
such  an  artistic  looking  bird  must  enjoy  the  con- 
trasting colors. 


VI. 


KEEL  -  TAILED  BLACKBIRD  ;  CROW  BLACKBIRD  ; 
BRONZED  CRACKLE. 

LOWELL  gives  this  bird  the  first  place  in  the 
calendar.     He  says  :  — 

"  Fust  come  the  blackbirds  clatt'rin'  in  tall  trees, 
And  settlin'  things  in  windy  Congresses,  — 
Queer  politicians,  though,  for  I  '11  be  skinned 
If  all  on  'em  don't  head  against  the  wind." 

In  spite  of  all  that  may  be  brought  up  in  Grand 


CROW  BLACKBIRD.  21 

Jury  against  these  "queer  politicians,"  who  is 
there  that  could  not  confess  to  a  thrill  of  pleasure 
when  they  appear  about  the  house  "  clatt'rin'  in 
taU  trees  "  ? 

As  Mr.  Burroughs  has  it :  "  The  air  is  filled 
with  cracking,  splintering,  spurting,  semi-musical 
sounds,  which  are  like  pepper  and  salt  to  the  ear." 
There  is  a  delicious  reality  to  their  notes.  We 
feel  now  that  spring  is  not  a  myth  of  the  poets, 
after  all,  but  that  she  has  sent  this  black  advance 
guard  as  a  promise  of  wild  flowers  and  May-day. 

Black,  did  I  say  ?  Nothing  could  be  more  mis- 
leading. Mr.  Ridgway  describes  the  body  of  the 
purple  grackle  as  "  brassy  olive  or  bronze,"  his 
neck  as  "  steel-blue,  violet,  purple,  or  brassy 
green,"  and  his  wings  and  tail  as  "  purplish  or 
violet-purplish."  He  IP  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
of  our  bird  beauties.  Watch  him  as  he  ambles 
over  the  branches,  and  when  the  sunlight  strikes 
him  you  will  wonder  who  could  have  been  so  blind 
as  to  dub  him  blackbird.  Call  him,  rather,  the 
black  opal ! 

He  is  a  bird  of  many  accomplishments.  To 
begin  with,  he  does  not  condescend  to  hop,  like 
ordinary  birds,  but  imitates  the  crow  in  his  stately 
walk ;  then  he  has  a  steering  apparatus  that  the 
small  boy  might  well  study  in  coasting  time.  He 
can  turn  his  tail  into  a  rudder.  Watch  him  as 
he  flies.  While  he  is  going  straight  ahead  you 
do  not  notice  anything  unusual,  but  as  soon  as  he 


22       BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

turns  or  wants  to  alight  you  see  his  tail  change 
from  the  horizontal  to  the  vertical  —  into  a  rud- 
der. He  is  called  keel-tailed  on  account  of  it. 

Moreover,  he  can  pick  beechnuts,  catch  cray- 
fish without  getting  nipped,  and  fish  for  minnows 
alongside  of  any  ten-year-old.  Last  October  I 
found  him  beech-nutting,  but  he  made  hard  work 
of  it.  I  suspect  the  cold  snap  —  for  there  was 
snow  on  the  ground  —  had  stiffened  his  toes  so 
that  he  was  more  awkward  than  usual.  Poor  fel- 
low, I  felt  sorry  for  him,  it  entailed  such  danger- 
ous gymnastics !  But  it  was  amusing  to  see  him 
walk  over  the  branches,  stretch  his  neck  to  the 
point  of  dislocation,  and  then  make  such  a  deter- 
mined dive  after  the  nut  that  he  nearly  lost  his 
balance,  and  could  only  save  himself  by  a  desper- 
ate jerk  of  the  tail.  Even  when  he  picked  out  a 
nut  he  had  to  put  it  under  his  claw  and  drill 
through  the  shell,  pick-axe  style,  before  he  could 
get  a  morsel  to  eat.  He  evidently  thought  it 
rather  serious  sport,  and  flew  down  for  some  shriv- 
eled crab-apples  as  a  second  course.  But  an  army 
of  robins  had  possession  of  the  apple-tree  and 
two  of  them  were  detailed  to  drive  him  off,  so  he 
had  to  finish  his  breakfast  up  in  the  cold  beech 
top. 

A  long  list  of  nesting  sites  might  be  given,  in- 
cluding martin-houses,  poplars,  evergreens,  holes 
in  stubs,  the  sides  of  fish  hawk's  nests,  and 
church  spires  where  the  blackbirds'  "  clatt'rin' "  is 


CROW  BLACKBIRD.  23 

drowned  by  the  tolling  bells.  Instances  of  their 
quarrels  with  robins  and  other  birds  would  fill  a 
volume,  but  the  most  interesting  feud  of  which 
I  have  heard  was  enacted  in  the  garden  of  the 
keen  observer  and  botanist,  Mrs.  Helen  M.  Bagg, 
and  its  progress  was  watched  by  her  unnoticed,' 
as  she  looked  out  upon  the  participants  from 
among  the  flowering  shrubs  and  vines  that  sur- 
round her  cottage.  I  quote  her  racy  descrip- 
tion :  — 

"  Early  one  May  two  robins,  with  many  mani- 
festations of  happiness,  set  up  house-keeping  in  a 
tree  near  the  south  end  of  my  house.  A  few  days 
later  a  large  flock  of  blackbirds  alighted  on  the 
trees  on  the  north  side  of  the  yard.  There  had 
been  a  blackbird  wedding,  and  their  friends  had 
escorted  them  hither  with  the  laudable  intention 
of  finding  a  suitable  location  for  a  nest  for  the 
happy  pair.  A  loud  chattering  and  fluttering  fol- 
lowed, one  advising  this  place,  another  that.  At 
length  the  young  husband  espied  the  broad  top 
of  the  water-pipe,  under  the  eaves,  and  settled  on 
that  as  a  most  secure  and  suitable  home  for  his 
bride.  The  wedding  guests,  with  the  satisfaction 
that  comes  from  the  consciousness  of  having  per- 
formed one's  duty,  took  their  departure,  leaving 
the  blissful  couple  to  the  uninterrupted  enjoyment 
of  their  own  society.  Ah  !  who  could  have  fore- 
told 'on  night  so  fair,  such  awful  morn'  could 
rise?" 


24      BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

"  In  the  mean  time  the  robins  had  been  watch- 
ing these  unusual  proceedings  with  much  anxiety 
and  uneasiness  ;  apparently  not  well  pleased  and 
not  a  little  alarmed  that  their  hereditary  foes 
should  presume  to  invade  their  domains  and  be- 
come domiciled  in  such  close  proximity  to  their 
own  residence.  But  they  made  no  hostile  demon- 
strations that  day,  waiting  to  see  the  turn  of  af- 
fairs, and,  as  the  sequel  shows,  to  gain  time  to 
summon  the  assistance  of  friends.  Early  the  next 
morning  they  resolved  to  eject  the  new-comers 
from  the  premises. 

"  Then  occurred  the  most  remarkable  scene  I 
ever  witnessed.  At  the  loud  cries  of  the  combat- 
ants an  immense  number  of  birds  of  both  kinds 
came  flocking  from  all  quarters  to  the  scene  of 
action,  as  if  they  had  been  expecting  the  affray. 
They  attacked  each  other  with  great  ferocity  and 
fought  pluckily  with  bills  and  feet  amid  loud 
cries  of  anger  and  derision.  Feathers  flew.  The 
wounded  would  fly  away  to  a  neighboring  tree  to 
nurse  their  hurts  for  a  moment,  when,  still  smart- 
ing with  pain,  back  they  would  come  to  fight  with 
redoubled  fury.  The  shrieks  and  cries  increased 
till  it  seemed  a  veritable  pandemonium.  Every 
robin  and  blackbird  within  the  radius  of  a  mile 
must  have  been  present,  either  as  spectator  or  par- 
ticipant in  the  strife.  After  a  time,  finding  that 
both  parties  were  equally  brave,  and  that  neither 
would  yield,  they  with  one  accord  withdrew  from 


CROW  BLACKBIRD.  25 

the  conflict  as  suddenly  as  they  came,  a  few  only 
remaining  to  arbitrate  matters. 

"  The  path  from  the  house  to  the  road  divides 
the  yard  into  equal  parts.  It  was  agreed  that  in 
future  the  blackbirds  should  keep  on  the  north 
side,  and  the  robins  on  the  south  side  of  this  path. 
Peace  and  quiet  reigned  the  rest  of  the  day,  all 
parties  being  too  exhausted  to  resume  the  struggle 
even  if  they  had  not  been  in  honor  bound  to  re- 
spect the  treaty.  But  do  not  fancy  that  the  feud 
was  forgotten.  By  no  means.  The  sleek  black- 
coated,  dapper  young  gentleman,  conscious  of  hav- 
ing won  the  victory,  inasmuch  as  he  had  not  been 
dislodged  from  his  position,  allowed  no  oppor- 
tunity to  pass  in  which  he  might  show  his  con- 
tempt for  or  exult  over  his  plainly-dressed  and 
comparatively  inelegant  neighbors. 

"  When  the  nest-building  commenced,  our  gay 
chevalier  complacently  permitted  his  meek  little 
wife  to  perform  the  main  part  of  the  labor,  while 
he  would  perch  himself  on  a  limb  as  near  the  di- 
viding line  as  possible  and  taunt  or  ridicule  his 
opponents,  whom  family  cares  alone  prevented 
from  reciprocating  the  compliments  —  the  will 
and  desire  were  strong  enough.  Sometimes  he 
would  examine  the  nest  to  see  how  the  work  pro- 
gressed, and  occasionally  he  condescended  to  pick 
up  a  straw  and  fly  with  it  to  a  tree  near  by,  and 
sit  there  with  it  in  his  mouth  with  a  wonderfully 
self-satisfied  air,  yet  never  offering  it  to  his  mate. 


26       BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

After  a  few  moments  he  would  drop  it,  smooth 
his  plumage,  wheel  about,  whisk  his  tail,  and  per- 
form various  other  antics  for  the  delectation  of 
Mrs.  Blackbird  ;  then  he  would  suddenly  dart  off 
to  see  what  the  robins  were  about. 


"  During  the  weeks  that  followed,  through  nest- 
making  and  incubation,  the  enmity  between  the 
blackbirds  and  robins  never  abated.  They  were 
ever  wary  and  on  the  alert,  and  if  it  chanced  that 
either  party,  returning  to  his  home,  happened  to 
cross  the  '  Mason  and  Dixon's  line,'  the  other  was 
out  of  his  nest  in  a  trice  to  drive  off  the  intruder. 
Sometimes  I  thought  both  parties  courted  these 
occasions,  though  they  would  generally  content 


BOBOLINK.  27 

themselves  with  angry  words  and  looks.  The  next 
year  they,  or  their  children,  returned,  and  each 
took  amicable  possession  of  his  old  nesting-place, 
neither  deigning  to  notice  his  neighbor." 


vn. 

BOBOLINK;    REED-BIRD;   RICE-BIRD. 

THOUGH  the  bluebird  brings  the  poet  pictures 
of  fields  blooming  with  dandelions  and  blue  vio- 
lets, and  visions  of  all  the  freshness  and  beauty  of 
nature,  it  tinges  his  thought  with  the  tremulous 
sadness  and  longing  of  spring ;  but  Robert  o'  Lin- 
coln, the  light-hearted  laugher  of  June,  brings 
him  the  spirit  of  the  long  bright  days  when  the 
sun  streams  full  upon  meadows  glistening  with 
buttercups  and  daisies. 

Pray,4iave  you  seen  the  merry  minstrel  singing 
over  the  fields,  or  sitting  atilt  of  a  grass  stem? 
And  do  you  know  what  an  odd  dress  he  masquer- 
ades in  ?  If  not,  let  me  warn  you.  One  day  at 
college  some  young  observers  came  to  me  in  great 
excitement.  They  had  seen  a  new  bird.  It  was 
a  marvelous,  unheard-of  creature  —  its  back  was 
white  and  its  breast  black.  What  could  it  be? 
Later  on,  when  we  were  out  one  day,  a  bobolink 
flew  on  to  the  campus.  That  was  their  bird.  And 
to  justify  their  description  they  exclaimed,  "  He 
looks  as  if  his  clothes  were  turned  around."  And 
so  he  does. 


28       BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

Shades  of  short  hair  and  bloomers,  what  an  in- 
novation !  How  the  birds  must  gossip !  Instead 
of  the  light-colored  shirt  and  vest  and  decorous 
dark  coat  sanctioned  by  the  Worth  of  conven- 


tional bird  circles  for  centuries,  this  radical  decks 
himself  out  in  a  jet-black  shirt  and  vest,  with  not 
so  much  as  a  white  collar  to  redeem  him ;  besides 
having  all  of  four  almost  white  patches  on  the 
back  of  his  coat !  But  don't  berate  him  —  who 
knows  but  this  unique  coloring  is  due  to  a  process 
unrecognized  by  the  Parisian  Worth,  but  desig- 
nated by  Mr.  Darwin  as  "  adaptation  "  ?  Most 
field  birds  are  protected  by  sparrowy  backs,  and 
with  his  black  back,  the  tendency  certainly  seems 
to  be  to  lessen  the  striking  effect  with  lighter  col- 
ors, leaving  the  breast,  which  is  unseen  when  he 


BOBOLINK.  29 

is  on  the  grass,  as  black  as  may  be.  In  the  fall 
when  flying  into  dangers  that  necessitate  an  in- 
conspicuous suit,  the  bobolink  makes  amends  for 
the  confusion  caused  in  the  spring,  by  adopting 
the  uniform  ochraceous  tints  of  his  wife.  In  this 
dress  he  joins  large  companies  of  his  brothers  and 
flies  south,  where  he  is  known  first  as  the  "  reed- 
bird,"  and  then,  in  the  rice-fields,  as  the  "rice- 
bird." 

What  could  resemble  the  old  time  "  needle  in 
the  hay-stack  "  more  than  a  bobolink's  nest  in  a 
meadow  full  of  high  grass  ?  But,  do  you  say,  the 
birds  act  as  a  magnet  to  discover  it  ?  That  seems 
to  remove  all  difficulties.  But  suppose  your  mag- 
net were  bound  to  make  you  believe  north,  south, 
and  east,  west  ?  When  the  bobolinks  assure  you 
their  nest  is  —  anywhere  except  where  it  is  — 
within  a  radius  of  five  or  six  rods,  you  —  well,  try 
it  some  warm  day  next  summer !  Here  is  a  bit  of 
my  experience. 

One  day  in  June  I  think  I  have  surely  found  a 
bobolink's  nest.  Everything  is  simplified.  In- 
stead of  a  dozen  pairs  of  birds  flying  up  helter 
skelter  from  all  parts  of  the  field,  there  is  only 
one  pair,  and  they  kindly  give  me  a  line  across 
the  meadow  ending  with  a  small  elm  on  the  west. 
and  a  fence  on  the  east.  As  they  only  occasion- 
ally diverge  to  an  evergreen  on  the  north  or  go 
for  a  run  to  a  distant  field  on  the  south,  I  am 
confident.  In  imagination  I  am  already  examin- 


30      BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

ing  the  brownish  white,  deeply  speckled  eggs  and 
noting  the  details  of  the  nest.  But  the  best  way 
is  to  keep  perfectly  still  and  let  the  birds  show 
me  just  where  the  nest  is,  though  of  course  it  is 
only  a  matter  of  a  few  minutes  more  or  less.  I  sit 
down  in  the  grass,  pull  the  timothy  stems  over  my 
dress,  make  myself  look  as  much  as  possible  like 
a  meadow,  and  keep  one  eye  on  the  bobolinks, 
while  appearing  to  be  absorbed  with  an  object  on 
the  other  side.  But  they  are  better  actors  than  I. 

Twitter-itter-itter  the  anxious  mother  reiterates 
in  a  high  key  as  she  hovers  suggestively  over  a 
tuft  of  grass  a  few  rods  away.  So  soon !  My 
impatience  can  hardly  be  restrained.  But  —  the 
father  is  coming. 

Linglcum  -  lingkum  -  lingkum,  he  vociferates 
loudly,  hovering  over  a  bunch  of  weeds  in  just 
the  opposite  direction.  By  this  time  the  mother 
is  atilt  of  another  timothy  stem  in  a  new  plafce, 
looking  as  if  just  ready  to  fly  down  to  her  nest. 
And  so  they  keep  it  up.  I  examine  all  the  weeds 
and  tussocks  of  grass  they  point  out.  On  nearing 
one  of  them,  the  mother  flies  about  my  head  with 
a  show  of  the  greatest  alarm ;  my  hopes  reach 
certainty  —  there  is  nothing  there !  I  look  under 
every  nodding  buttercup  and  spreading  daisy  for 
yards  around  only  to  see  Mrs.  Robert  of  Lincoln 
hovering  above  a  spot  she  had  avoided  before. 
The  next  day  I  offer  a  reward  to  two  children  if 
they  will  find  the  nest,  but  the  birds  probably 


BOBOLINK.  31 

practice  the  same  wiles  on  them  —  they  can  dis- 
cover nothing.  What  a  pity  the  poor  birds  can't 
tell  friends  from  enemies.  They  treat  me  as  if  I 
were  a  brigand ;  but  if  they  knew  I  wanted  to 
peep  at  their  pretty  eggs  and  admire  their  house- 
keeping arrangements,  how  gladly  they  would  show 
me  about ! 

After  noticing  the  clear  cut,  direct  flight  of  the 
robin,  the  undulating  flight  of  the  bluebird,  and 
the  circling  and  zigzagging  of  the  swift,  you  will 
study  with  interest  the  labored  sallies  and  eccen- 
tricities of  the  bobolink.  When  he  soars,  he 
turns  his  wings  down  till  he  looks  like  an  open 
umbrella ;  and  when  getting  ready  to  light  in  the 
grass  puts  them  up  sail  fashion,  so  that  the  um- 
brella seems  to  be  turned  inside  out.  Indeed, 
from  the  skillful  way  he  uses  his  wings  and  tail 
to  steer  and  balance  himself,  you  might  think  he 
had  been  trained  for  an  acrobat. 

The  most  animated  song  of  the  bobolink  is 
given  on  the  wing,  although  he  sings  constantly 
in  the  grass,  and  on  low  trees  and  bushes.  The 
most  exuberantly  happy  of  all  our  birds,  he  seems 
to  contain  the  essence  of  summer  joy  and  sun- 
shine. "  BobolinkumJinkum-deah-deah-cZeah  "  he 
warbles  away,  the  notes  fairly  tumbling  over  each 
other  as  they  pour  out  of  his  throat.  Up  from 
the  midst  of  the  buttercups  and  daisies  he  starts 
and  flies  along  a  little  way,  singing  this  joyous 
song  with  such  light-hearted  fervor  that  he  is 


32       BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

glad  to  sink  down  on  the  stem  of  some  sturdy 
young  timothy  before  giving  his  last  burst  of 
song. 

Thoreau  gives  the  best  description  I  have  ever 
seen  of  the  first  notes  of  the  bobolink's  song.  He 
says :  "  I  hear  the  note  of  a  bobolink  concealed 
in  the  top  of  an  apple-tree  behind  me.  .  .  .  He  is 
just  touching  the  strings  of  his  theorbo,  his  glassi- 
chord,  his  water  organ,  and  one  or  two  notes  globe 
themselves  and  fall  in  liquid  bubbles  from  his 
tuning  throat.  It  is  as  if  he  touched  his  harp 
within  a  vase  of  liquid  melody,  and  when  he  lifted 
it  out  the  notes  fell  like  bubbles  from  the  trem- 
bling strings.  Methinks  they  are  the  most  liquidly 
sweet  and  melodious  sounds  I  ever  heard." 

Almost  every  one  gives  a  different  rendering  of 
the  bobolink's  meaning.  The  little  German  chil- 
dren playing  in  our  meadows  cry  after  him  in 
merry  mimicry,  "  Oncle-dey  dunkel-dey  oncle-dey 
dunkel-dey."  The  farm  boy  calls  him  the  "  corn- 
planting  bird,"  and  thinks  he  says,  "  Dig  a  hole, 
dig  a  hole,  put  it  in,  put  it  in,  cover 't  up,  cover  't 
up,  stamp  on  't,  stamp  on  '£,  step  along." 

VIII. 

RUFFED  GROUSE  ;  PARTRIDGE. 

THE  partridge,  or  ruffed  grouse  as  he  is  more 
properly  called,  is  our  first  true  woods  bird.  His 


RUFFED  GROUSE.  33 

colors  are  the  colors  of  the  brown  leaves  that  lie 
on  the  ground,  and  as  he  crouches  close  to  the 
earth  it  is  no  easy  task  to  discover  him.  The  one 
thought  of  the  poor  persecuted  bird  seems  to  be 
to  keep  out  of  reach  of  his  enemies. 

Here,  one  of  his  favorite  covers  is  in  a  quiet 
spot  where  I  go  to  gather  ferns  —  a  grove  that 
"  fronts  the  rising  sun "  and  is  full  of  dappled 
maple  saplings  interspersed  with  the  white  birches 
that  gleam  in  the  morning  light  and  keep  birch- 
bark  scrolls  rolled  up  along  their  sides  ready  for 
the  birds  to  carry  away  for  their  nests.  At  the 
foot  of  the  trees,  and  close  to  the  moss-covered 
drumming-log,  ferns  stand  in  pretty  groups  of  all 
growths  from  the  tiny  green  sprays  and  the  soft 
uncurling  downy  balls  to  the  full  grown  arching 
fronds  whose  backs  are  dotted  with  brown  fruit ; 
while,  as  a  protecting  hedge  along  the  front  of  the 
grove,  great  masses  of  the  tender  green  mountain 
fern  give  their  delicate  fragrance  to  the  air.  But 
pass  by  this  hiding  place,  and  a  sudden  whirr 
through  the  bushes,  first  from  one  startled  bird 
and  then  another,  tells  you  they  have  flown  before 
you.  Approach  the  drumming-log  when  the  air 
has  been  resounding  with  exultant  blows  —  the 
noise  stops,  not  a  bird  is  to  be  seen. 

As  we  feed  the  partridges  in  our  woods  and 
never  allow  any  hunting  there,  in  winter  the  birds 
venture  about  the  house  for  food.  The  Norway 
spruces  by  the  garden  afford  a  warm  shelter,  and 


34       BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

there,  under  the  boughs,  corn  is  kept  for  them 
on  barrels  and  boxes.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
house,  in  front  of  the  dining-rooin  window,  is  a 
similar  store  for  the  blue  jays  and  gray  squirrels ; 
and  as  they  sometimes  visit  the  partridges'  table, 
the  latter  often  fly  around  the  house  to  see  if  the 
squirrels'  corn  tastes  any  better  than  theirs. 

The  first  snowy  morning  they  appear  we  have 
to  peek  through  the  shutters  very  cautiously,  for 
they  are  painfully  shy,  crouching  in  the  snow,  lis- 
tening tremulously  to  the  least  sound  from  the 
house,  looking  about  every  time  they  pick  up  a 
kernel  of  corn,  and  whirring  off  back  to  their 
evergreens  if  a  window  or  blind  chances  to  be 
thrown  open.  But  they  soon  lose  their  fears,  and 
some  mornings  we  find  their  pretty  footprints  in 
the  snow  on  the  piazza. 

One  winter  they  seemed  to  show  a  fondness  for 
music,  often  coming  close  to  the  house  as  I  was 
playing  the  piano.  Indeed  they  and  the  squirrels 
must  both  have  followed  the  Pied  Piper  of  Hame- 
lin  —  the  squirrels  not  only  nibble  their  corn  with 
complacent  satisfaction  when  the  music  box  is 
wound  for  them,  but  have  even  let  themselves  be 
stroked  when  a  peculiarly  pathetic  air  was  whis- 
tled! Who  dare  say  what  forest  concerts  the 
pretty  creatures  may  get  up  on  the  long  winter 
evenings  when  they  are  tired  frolicking  on  the 
moonlit  snow! 

Still  the  partridges  seem  to  like  the  bright  red 


RUFFED  GROUSE.  35 

berries  of  the  cranberry-tree  even  better  than  they 
do  music,  and  we  have  been  much  amused  watch- 
ing their  attempts  to  get  the  berries  from  a  bush 
by  the  garden.  Sometimes  they  stand  in  the  snow 
underneath  and  jump  for  them  ;  but  one  day  when 
the  bush  was  covered  with  ice  one  adventurous 
bird  flew  up  on  a  branch  and  nearly  turned  a 
somersault  in  trying  to  lean  over  and  pick  off  the 
berries  and  at  the  same  time  keep  hold  of  the 
slippery  perch. 

But  our  chief  pleasure  is  in  watching  the  par- 
tridges from  the  bay  window  of  the  dining-room. 
The  young  men  are  as  proud  as  turkey-cocks 
of  the  handsome  black  ruffs  for  which  they  were 
dubbed  "  ruffed  grouse,"  and  when  they  strut  be- 
fore the  ladies,  raising  their  crests,  erecting  their 
spread  tails,  and  puffing  out  the  ruffs  over  their 
shoidders  they  remind  one  forcibly  of  the  lordly 
cock.  In  matter  of  fact  they  do  belong  to  the 
same  family,  —  that  of  the  gallinaceous  birds,  — 
and  many  of  their  mannerisms  betray  the  relation- 
ship. Their  way  of  scratching  in  the  snow,  rest- 
ing their  weight  on  one  foot  and  scratching  with 
the  other,  is  like  that  of  the  common  hen,  and 
their  drumming  is  the  finished  performance  that 
is  caricatured  by  Chanticleer.  Drumming  with 
the  partridge  is  a  joy.  He  beats  the  air  with  his 
wings  till  it  must  needs  sing  for  him,  and  the 
music  is  full  of  refreshing  pictures  of  green  mossy 
logs,  arching  ferns,  and  the  cool  shade  of  the 
woods. 


86       BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

IX. 

RUBY-THROATED   HUMMING-BIRD. 

DID  you  ever  see  a  humming-bird  sitting  on  a 
bare  branch  of  a  towering  tree  ?  Until  you  have 
you  will  scarcely  appreciate  what  a  wee  mite  of  a 
bird  it  is.  Indeed  I  find  it  hard  to  think  of  it 
as  ajbird  at  all.  It  seems  more  like  a  fairy,  "  a 
glittering  fragment  of  a  rainbow,"  as  Audubon 
calls  it,  or  as  some  one  else  has  said,  — 

"  Like  a  gem  or  a  blossom  on  pinions," 

something  too  dainty  and  airy  to  have  even  three 
inches  of  actual  length.  It  seems  like  the  winged 
spirit  of  color  as  it  comes  humming  through  the 
air  to  hover  over  the  flowers  on  the  piazza,  its 
body  like  green  beryl,  and  its  throat  glancing  fire. 
Like  Puck  it  might  boast  that  it  could  "  put  a 
girdle  round  about  the  earth  in  forty  minutes," 
for  while  we  are  wondering  at  its  friendliness  it 
darts  off  and  is  gone  like  the  flash  of  a  diamond. 

In  this  vicinity  the  garden  of  Mrs.  Bagg  seems 
to  be  one  of  the  favorite  haunts  of  the  humming- 
birds, and  she  has  kindly  given  me  some  notes  on 
her  experiences  with  them.  She  says :  — 

"  In  confinement  they  do  not  appear  to  pine  for 
freedom,  beating  themselves  against  the  wires  like 
other  birds,  but  seem  contented  and  at  home  from 
the  first,  I  kept  a  pair  caged  a  whole  summer, 


HUMMING-BIRD.  37 

feeding  them  with  water  sweetened  with  honey  or 
sugar.  When  I  put  a  cup  of  their  food  in  the 
cage  they  would  alight  on  my  fingers,  and  with 
their  long  flexible  tongue  suck  off  the  honey  I  had 
accidentally  spilled.  In  disposition  they  are  too 
pugnacious  to  live  as  harmoniously  as  one  would 
expect  or  desire,  sometimes  pursuing  one  another 
around  the  cage  with  great  ferocity,  and  such  in- 
conceivable rapidity  that  their  tiny  forms  seemed 
resolved  into  absolute  sound.  I  frequently  per- 
mitted them  to  fly  about  the  room  for  exercise, 
but  they  never  returned  voluntarily  to  their  cage. 
When  caught  they  did  not  resist  and  struggle, 
but  saw  the  door  of  their  prison-house  closed  upon 
them  without  a  complaint.  They  had  never  a  sick 
or  unhappy  day  through  the  whole  summer,  but 
when  the  cold  days  of  autumn  approached  they 
began  to  droop,  although  their  cage  was  hung  in 
the  warmest  place  in  the  room.  For  three  days 
they  hung  suspended  to  their  perches  by  their 
feet,  and  did  not  relax  the  hold  while  life  lasted. 
I  have  found  them  clinging  to  vines  and  shrub- 
bery in  that  manner  on  cold  mornings  after  a 
frost,  but  though  seemingly  lif eless  the  warmth  of 
the  hand  would  revive  them. 

"Some  years  a  few  are  unaccountably  tardy 
about  migrating;  at  other  times  they  make  the 
mistake  of  coming  too  early  in  spring.  Undoubt- 
edly most  of  them  migrate  in  August,  but  with 
them,  as  in  every  other  community,  there  are  al- 


38       BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

ways  some  laggards  as  well  as  bold  pioneers.  I 
once  found  one  in  my  house  on  a  very  cold  morn- 
ing in  the  fall.  He  was  probably  sleeping  on  some 
house-plants  that  had  been  brought  in  from  the 
frost  the  previous  night,  and  was  too  benumbed 
with  cold  to  know  it.  I  caught  and  fed  him,  as  it 
would  have  been  barbarous  to  turn  him  out  in  the 
cold.  He  soon  became  a  great  pet,  and  was  tame 
as  a  kitten. 

"  One  day  two  gentlemen  entered  the  room 
where  his  cage  was  hanging,  both  wearing  tall 
hats.  He  fell  immediately  to  the  bottom  of  the 
cage,  with  wings  outspread,  eyes  closed,  body  rigid, 
and  with  every  appearance  of  death.  We  took 
him  in  our  hands  and  warmed  him  by  the  fire. 
He  still  remained  motionless.  We  decided  that 
those  hats  had  frightened  him  to  death.  With  a 
heavy  heart  I  laid  him  aside,  intending  to  embalm 
him  at  my  leisure. 

"  A  few  minutes  later  my  friends  left  the  house. 
Directly  after  the  door  closed  I  heard  a  humming 
and  buzzing  in  the  room.  Looking  up,  there  was 
my  bird  circling  around  the  room  in  the  most  hila- 
rious manner.  Who  can  tell  whether  his  apparent 
death  was  not  counterfeited  ?  If  it  was  not  feigned, 
why  did  he  revive  the  moment  the  door  was  closed 
and  I  was  alone  ? 

"  If  you  capture  one  out  of  doors  and  hold 
him  in  your  hand  he  will  practice  the  same 
ruse,  stretching  himself  out,  stiff  and  motionless. 


HUMMING-BIRD.  39 

Thrown  off  your  guard  you  stoop  to  examine  your 
prize,  when  lo !  your  hand  is  empty  and  your 
bird  nearly  out  of  sight  before  you  have  time  to 
recover  from  the  astonishment. 

"Towards  the  humble-bee  he  manifests  the 
utmost  ill-will,  a  veritable  '  dog  in  the  manger ' 
spirit,  driving  him  away  from  one  flower  after  an- 
other till  the  bee  in  pure  desperation  turns  on  his 
persecutor.  There  are  surely  sweets  enough  for 
all,  and  he  knows  it.  Still  it  may  be  possible  that 
his  animosity  is  aroused  more  by  a  personal  aver- 
sion he  has  to  the  bee  than  by  more  selfish  con- 
siderations. We  will  give  him  the  benefit  of  the 
doubt.  He  is  fond  of  silence,  and  will  often  sit 
half  an  hour  together  on  a  dead  twig  wrapt  in 
the  profoundest  meditation,  and  doubtless  the  in- 
cessant droning  of  the  bees  disturbs  his  reflections 
and  irritates  him  beyond  endurance.  I  had  once 
in  my  garden  a  ribbon-bed  of  white  and  rose  col- 
ored Lamium.  In  its  unsullied  beauty  it  was  like 
a  dream  of  poetry.  Every  flower  was  perfect 
with  an  unsurpassed  and  delicate  loveliness.  One 
sunny  morning  I  observed  an  unusual  number  of 
humming-birds  and  bees  working  among  the  blos- 
soms. Presently  there  was  a  commotion !  The 
humming-birds  had  united  to  drive  the  bees  away, 
darting  at  them  furiously,  uttering  at  the  same 
time  their  spiteful,  piping  cries.  The  bees,  intent 
on  seeking  their  breakfast,  at  first  gave  up  good- 
naturedly  and  flew  to  some  other  flower,  only  to 


40       BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

be  driven  from  that  a  moment'  later.  At  length 
forbearance  ceased  to  be  a  virtue,  and  the  temper 
of  the  apathetic  bee  was  aroused.  A  fierce  battle 
ensued.  They  pursued  one  another  around  and 
around  that  flower  bed,  over  and  under  and 
through  the  flowers,  sometimes  the  birds  and  then 
the  bees  liaving  the  vantage.  Their  rage  knew  no 
bounds,  and  they  fought  till  sheer  exhaustion  com- 
pelled them  to  desist.  Every  flower  was  torn  to 
shreds,  not  a  whole  blossom  remaining." 

The  nest  of  the  humming-bird  is  as  delicate  as 
the  little  creature  itself.  It  is  built  in  the  form 
of  a  small  cup,  saddled  upon  a  horizontal  limb, 
and  covered  on  the  outside  with  lichens  which 
make  it  look  like  a  knob  on  the  branch.  The 
child  who  discovers  a  humming-bird's  nest  is  cred- 
ited with  sharp  eyes. 

X. 

MEADOW-LARK. 

To  many,  the  meadow-lark  is  only  a  voice,  but 
if  you  follow  the  rule  laid  down  at  the  beginning 
of  your  work,  and  are  determined  to  see  as  well 
as  hear,  you  will  have  little  trouble  in  finding  the 
owner  of  the  plaintive  call  that  rises  so  mysteri- 
ously out  of  the  grass. 

Focus  your  glass  on  the  meadow,  and  listen 
carefully  for  the  direction  of  the  sound.  As  the 


MEADOW-LARK. 


41 


lark  is  very  much  the  color  of  the  dead  grass  that 
covers  the  ground  when  he  first  comes  north,  and 
of  the  dry  stubble  left  after  the  summer  mowing, 
he  is  somewhat  hard  to  see.  When  you  have 
found  him,  it  is  a  delightful  surprise  to  see  that 


the  brownish  yellow  disguise  of  his  hack  is  re- 
lieved, not,  indeed,  by  a  sable  robe  like  the  bobo- 
link's, but  by  a  throat  of  brilliant  yellow,  set  off 
by  a  large  black  crescent. 

The  meadow-lark  has  two  notable  characteris- 
tics. Belonging  to  the  blackbird  family,  he  is  a 
walker,  and  when  he  flies  you  will  see  that  he  is 
also  one  of  the  few  birds  marked  by  prominent 
white  outer  tail  feathers.  The  peculiarities  of  his 
labored  flight  are  exactly  described  by  Shelley 


42       BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

when  he  says,  in  his  Ode  to  the  Skylark,  "  Thou 
dost  float  and  run"  Flying  seems  hard  work  for 
him,  and  he  does  as  little  of  it  as  possible.  When 
he  starts  up  from  the  meadow,  he  goes  in  a  di- 
rect line  to  the  tree  he  wishes  to  reach.  Like 
the  bobolink,  he  nests  in  fields  and  lays  his  eggs 
in  a  coil  of  dried  grass  on  the  ground. 

In  variety  and  execution  the  famous  song  of  the 
European  lark  may  be  superior  to  that  of  our  own 
Eastern  lark,  though  Wilson  holds  that  ours  ex- 
cels it  in  "  sweetness  of  voice."  The  mournful 
melody  of  the  meadow-lark  is  f idl  of  poetic  sugges- 
tions ;  he  is  the  hermit  thrush  of  the  meadows, 
and  where  the  light-hearted  bobolink's  song  jos- 
tles the  sunbeams,  he  is  as  solitary  and  pensive  as 
the  lonely  hermit  when  it  thrills  the  hush  of  the 
sunset  after-glow  with  its  fervid  Te  Deum. 

XI. 

BLACK-CAPPED   CHICKADEE;    TITMOUSE. 

READ  Emerson's  "  Titmouse "  and  you  will 
recognize  this  charming  little  bird  without  the 
aid  of  your  glass.  Not  only  in  spring  and  fall, 
but  in  the  coldest  winter  days  you  will  hear  what 
Thoreau  calls  the  "  silver  tinkling  "  chick-a-dee- 
dee-dee-dee,  chick-a-dee-dee-dee-dee  ringing  through 
the  air.  When  you  hear  it,  if  you  look  carefully 
over  the  trees  you  will  see  a  fluffy  little  bod} 


CHICKADEE.  43 

dressed  out  in  a  black  hood  whose  sombre  tone  is 
relieved  by  whitish  side  pieces,  a  vest  to  match 
the  sides  of  the  hood,  and  a  dark  gray  coat  for 
contrast.  Clinging  to  the  side  of  a  tree  one  min- 
ute, and  hanging  upside  down  pecking  at  the 
moss  on  a  branch  the  next,  it  is  flitting  about 
hither  and  thither  so  busily  that  unless  you  draw 
near  you  will  hardly  catch  a  glimpse  of  its  black 
cap  and  gray  and  white  clothes.  You  need  not 
fear  scaring  it,  for  it  has  the  most  winning  confi- 
dence in  man,  inspecting  the  trees  in  the  front 
yard  or  those  in  the  woods  with  the  same  trustful 
unconcern. 

You  are  inclined  to  think  that  the  busy  chick- 
adee takes  no  time  to  meditate,  and  sees  only  the 
bright  side  of  life  ;  and  when  you  hear  its  plain- 
tive minor  whistle  piercing  the  woods,  you  wonder 
if  it  can  have  come  from  the  same  little  creature 
whose  merry  chick-a-dee-dee  you  know  so  well. 
Thoreau  calls  this  plaintive  whistle  the  spring 
phoebe's  note  of  the  chickadee,  and  gives  its  win- 
ter call  as  day,  day,  day.  When  happy,  the 
chickadee  is  the  best  company  one  could  hope  for 
on  a  winter's  walk ;  when  busy  it  seems  to  realize 
perpetual  motion ;  and  when  it  gives  up  its  ordi- 
nary pursuits  and  prepares  to  rear  a  family,  it 
goes  to  work  in  .the  same  whole-souled  fashion. 
Leaving  civilization  with  its  many  distractions,  it 
goes  into  the  woods,  and  that  is  the  last  you  see 
or  hear  of  it  until  fall.  Even  there  it  is  not  con- 


44        BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

tent  to  sit  perched  up  on  top  of  an  open  nest,  but 
builds  in  the  side  of  a  stump  or  a  dead  stub,  and 
retires  from  the  world  with  the  determination  of 
a  nun. 

You  will  wonder  at  first  how  such  a  tiny  bill  as 
the  chickadee's  can  be  used  as  a  pickaxe,  but  if 
you  notice  it  carefully  you  will  see  that,  without 
being  clumsy,  it  is  very  stout,  for  it  is  arched 
enough  to  give  it  strength.  Of  course  the  chick- 
adee sometimes  nests  in  natural  cavities  in  trees  ; 
and  Audubon  says  old  woodpeckers'  holes  are  oc- 
casionally used ;  but  most  writers  agree  in  think- 
ing that  it  usually  makes  its  own  excavation, 
occasionally  in  comparatively  hard  wood. 

One  morning  I  was  hurrying  noisily  through 
the  underbrush  of  a  clearing  to  get  home  in  time 
for  breakfast,  when,  suddenly,  I  came  face  to  face 
with  a  pair  of  chickadees.  Even  then  they  did 
not  stir,  but  sat  eying  me  calmly  for  several  sec- 
onds. I  suspected  a  nest,  and  when  they  had 
flown  off,  I  discovered  the  opening  in  a  decayed 
stub  close  by  my  side.  The  stub  was  a  small  one, 
being  perhaps  eight  or  ten  inches  in  diameter  and 
four  and  a  half  feet  high.  The  entrance  was 
about  a  foot  from  the  top,  and  the  nest  itself  a 
foot  or  more  below  this.  What  a  tasteful  little 
structure  it  was  !  Although  out  of  sight,  it  was 
far  prettier  than  most  bird-houses  on  exhibition 
in  the  forest.  Bits  of  fresh  green  moss  gave  it  a 
dainty  air,  and  brought  out  the  dark  gray  of  the 


CHICKADEE.  45 

squirrel  or  rabbit  fur  that  made  it  snug  and 
warm.  I  was  tempted  to  wonder  where  the  fur 
came  from  —  had  this  innocent  chickadee  tweaked 
it  out  of  the  back  of  some  preoccupied  animal  ? 
Perhaps  the  demure  little  recluse  has  a  spice  of 
wickedness  after  all,  and  its  satisfaction  in  its  se- 
cure retreat  has  something  of  exultant  mischief 
in  it! 

In  any  case,  it  sometimes  takes  unfair  advan- 
tage, for  this  fall  I  saw  a  chickadee  deliberately 
lying  in  wait  for  his  breakfast,  just  as  a  spider 
would.  I  was  passing  a  Norway  spruce  when  I 
caught  sight  of  him  pecking  away  on  the  under 
side  of  one  of  the  lower  branches.  Soon  he  pulled 
out  a  large  white  chrysalis-like  ball,  flew  up  on  a 
branch  and  sat  there  till  he  disposed  of  it.  Then 
he  went  back  and  hung  himself,  upside  down,  to 
the  branch,  just  below  the  place  where  the  first 
morsel  had  come  from.  Balder,  my  big  New- 
foundland, and  I  were  within  five  feet  of  the  little 
rogue,  but  he  did  not  care  for  that.  There  he 
clung  for  as  much  as  two  or  three  minutes,  per- 
fectly motionless  except  when  he  turned  his  head 
to  give  us  a  preoccupied  look.  Then  suddenly  he 
picked  down  and  drew  out  a  small  white  worm, 
and  flew  up  into  the  branch  with  a  triumphant 
little  cry,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Ha,  ha,  I  got  you 
after  all!" 


46       BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 


XII. 

CUCKOO;   RAIN   CROW. 

UNLESS  you  follow  the  cuckoo  to  his  haunts, 
you  rarely  see  him.  Now  and  then,  perhaps,  you 
catch  a  glimpse  of  his  long  brown  body  as  he 
comes  silently  out  of  an  orchard,  an  overgrown 
garden,  or  a  clump  of  bushes,  to  disappear  swiftly 
in  a  heavily  leaved  tree  or  mass  of  shrubbery 
where  he  suspects  a  fresh  supply  of  insects. 

A  third  longer  than  the  robin,  the  cuckoo  is  a 
slender,  olive-brown  bird  with  a  light  breast.  The 
two  species  are  very  similar  in  appearance  antl 


habit,  but  in  the  yellow-billed  there  are  distinct 
white  spots  known  as  "  thumb  marks  "   on  the 


CUCKOO.  47 

under  side  of  the  tail.  The  black-billed  cuckoo  is 
a  plainer  bird,  its  only  striking  peculiarity  being 
its  bright  red  eyelids. 

You  will  do  well  to  remember  the  rhythm  of 
the  cuckoo's  notes.  It  may  save  you  an  experi- 
ence I  had  one  fall.  I  supposed  the  birds  had 
left  for  the  South,  but  hearing  a  regular  kuk-kuk- 
kuk  coming  from  the  woods,  and  being  especially 
anxious  to  study  the  cuckoo's  habits,  I  left  the 
raspberry  patch  where  I  was  watching  for  rare 
warblers,  and  hurried  off  in  search  of  the  wandet- 
ing  voice.  What  a  treat !  —  to  be  able  to  see  a 
cuckoo  after  all !  I  crept  along  with  scrupulous 
care,  begrudging  the  time  my  caution  cost  me,  but 
determined  not  to  lose  this  last  chance.  What  if 
he  should  fly  off  before  I  could  get  there  !  But 
no  —  I  began  to  exult  —  kulc-kuk-kuk  came  loud 
and  clear  as  I  stopped  to  listen  for  the  direction 
of  the  sound.  I  must  be  almost  up  to  him.  Oh, 
that  I  could  sweep  all  the  noisy  dead  leaves  into 
the  ditch  !  I  look  about  anxiously  for  moss  and 
old  logs  to  step  on.  There !  Grasping  my  note- 
book in  one  hand,  with  the  other  I  raise  my  glass. 
A  mischievous  looking  chipmunk,  sitting  erect  on 
top  of  a  mossy  stump,  suddenly  jumps  off  into 
the  leaves  and  —  the  sound  stops  ! 


48        BIRDS    THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

XIII. 
YELLOW   HAMMER  ;   FLICKER. 

WHEN  people  attempt  to  give  their  children 
descriptive  names  they  generally  meet  with  the 
success  of  the  colored  woman  who  christened  her 
little  girl  "  Lillie  White  "  only  to  see  her  grow 
to  be  the  darkest  of  her  ebony  family.  But  local 
bird  names  are  more  like  nicknames ;  they  usually 
touch  facts,  not  hopes,  and  hint  the  most  striking 
features  of  coloring,  song,  flight,  and  habit.  As 
you  have  discovered,  this  is  true  of  the  bluebird, 
chimney  swift,  catbird,  keel-tailed  blackbird,  hum- 
ming-bird, and  meadow -lark;  and  looking  over 
the  yellow  hammer's  thirty-six  common  names 
given  by  Mr.  Colburn  in  the  Audubon  Magazine 
for  June,  1887,  you  will  get  a  fair  description  of 
the  bird.  As  he  flies  over  your  head  in  the  field 
your  first  impression  is  of  a  large  yellow  bird  — 
he  is  of  the  size  of  the  crow  blackbird  —  and 
on  the  list  you  find  "  yellow  hammer,"  "  yellow 
jay,"  and  "  pique-bois  jaune  "  ;  but  as  the  yellow 
light  comes  'mainly  from  his  bright  yellow  shafts 
and  the  gold  of  the  underside  of  his  wings 
and  tail,  you  have  also  "yellow-shafted  wood- 
pecker," and  "  golden-winged  woodpecker."  His 
dark  back  and  the  large  white  spot  at  the  base  of 
his  tail,  though  conspicuous  in  flight,  are  not  dig- 
nified by  a  name ;  but  when  he  lights  on  the  side 


YELLOW  HAMMER.  49 

of  a  tree  or  an  old  stub  you  recognize  him  as  a 
"  woodpecker."  With  the  help  of  your  glass  you 
also  see  the  bright  red  crescent  on  the  back  of  his 
head,  for  which  he  is  probably  called  "  crescent 
bird."  There  he  clings,  fastening  his  claws  firmly 
in  the  bark,  and  bracing  himself  with  the  stiff 
quills  of  his  tail,  so  that  his  convexity  of  outline 
almost  amounts  to  a  half  circle  as  he  bends  for- 
ward to  "  hammer  "  on  the  wood.  This  is  the 
best  time  to  use  your  glass,  for  he  is  quite  a  shy 
bird,  and  except  when  engaged  in  his  favorite 
work,  is  hard  to  observe  satisfactorily,  even  at  a 
respectful  distance.  His  dark  back  proves  to  be 
barred  with  black,  and  following  him  as  he  circles 
up  the  tree  you  get  a  glimpse  of  his  breast  that 
discloses  a  large  black  collar  separating  his  thickly 
spotted  breast  from  the  plain  light  throat. 

The  song  of  the  yellow  hammer  is  like  the  Ger- 
man th  —  he  has  n't  any.  He  has  a  variety  of  cries 
and  calls,  however,  and  a  trill  that  sounds  like  a 
great  rattle  shaken  in  the  air.  Mr.  Colburn  at- 
tributes twelve  of  his  names  to  imitations  of  these 
various  sounds;  clape,  cave-due,  fiddler,  flicker, 
hittock,  hick-wall,  ome-tuc,  piute  or  peerit,  wake- 
up,  yaffle,  yarrup,  and  yucker. 

Mr.  Ingersoll  refers  "  flicker  "  to  his  flight,  and 
if  you  watch  your  yellow  hammer  till  he  flies  off 
to  another  tree  you  will  see  that  the  adjective  de- 
scribes his  peculiar  but  characteristic  woodpecker 
flight  better  than  the  most  labored  description. 


50       BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

Mr.  Colburn  says  he  is  called  "  taping  bird  "  from 
it,  because  he  looks  as  if  "  measuring  off  tape." 

If  you  are  persevering  enough  to  follow  him  to 
his  nest  —  and  you  never  feel  thoroughly  ac- 
quainted with  birds  any  more  than  with  people 


until  you  see  them  in  their  homes  —  you  will  dis- 
cover why  he  is  called  "high-hold,"  "  high-holder," 
and  "  high-hole "  —  that  is,  if  the  nest  he  has 
made  is  one  of  the  high  ones.  Sometimes  yellow 
hammers  build  very  low.  However  this  may  be, 
the  entrance  to  the  nest  is  a  large  round  hole,  cut 
out  of  the  wood  of  the  tree,  as  the  pile  of  chips 
on  the  ground  attests.  Inside,  the  hole  is  very 


YELLOW  HAMMER.  51 

deep  and  the  white  eggs  are  laid  on  the  chips  at 
the  bottom.  The  usual  number  of  eggs  is  six. 

A  gentleman  tells  me  a  curious  case  of  miscal- 
culation on  the  part  of  a  yellow  hammer  that  built 
in  an  old  apple-tree  near  his  house.  He  says  the 
old  birds  kept  bringing  food  to  the  nest  so  long 
that  he  thought  something  must  be  wrong,  and 
went  to  investigate.  The  nest  was  just  within  his 
reach,  and  he  found  that,  as  he  had  supposed,  the 
birds  were  more  than  large  enough  to  fly.  In  fact 
they  were  so  large  they  could  not  get  out  of  the 
mouth  of  the  nest,  and  were  actually  imprisoned 
there !  The  gentleman  got  an  axe  and  cut  out 
the  opening  for  them,  and  the  next  morning  the 
brood  had  flown. 

Knowing  the  habits  of  the  yellow  hammer,  you 
wonder  why  there  is  no  name  to  credit  him  with 
the  work  he  does  for  us  in  eating  the  boring  ants 
that  eviscerate  our  noblest  trees  ;  and  you  are  still 
more  surprised  to  find  no  name  to  stamp  him  a 
field  and  ground  woodpecker,  because  his  devo- 
tion to  ant-hills  and  other  ground  preserves  is  one 
of  the  characteristics  that  distinguish  him  from 
the  other  woodpeckers.  Possibly  the  name  "  wood- 
pecker lark  "  may  refer  to  his  custom  of  hunting 
in  the  fields. 


52      BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

XIV. 

BALTIMORE  ORIOLE  ;    FIRE-BIRD  ;   GOLDEN  ROBIN  ; 
HANG-NEST. 

WILSON  notices  the  interesting  fact  that  our 
oriole  was  named  by  Linnaeus  in  honor  of  Lord 
Baltimore,  whose  colors  were  black  and  orange. 

He  is  shorter  than  the  robin,  and  compared 
with  that  plump  alderman  is  slenderly  and  deli- 
cately built  —  much  more  in  the  form  of  the 
blackbirds.  His  back  is  black  instead  of  grayish- 
brown,  and  his  breast  orange  instead  of  dull  red- 
dish. In  habit,  he  contrasts  still  more  strongly 
with  the  robin.  Who  ever  saw  Sir  Baltimore 
watching  for  fish-worms  in  the  grass,  or  taking 
possession  of  a  crotch  in  the  piazza  ?  —  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  who  ever  saw  a  robin  hold  his  din- 
ner under  his  claw  and  peck  it  to  pieces  as  the 
orioles  and  their  cousins  the  blackbirds  do  ?  The 
oriole  is  comparatively  shy,  and  has  a  nervous, 
excitable  temperament,  while  the  robin  is  not  only 
social  but  phlegmatic.  Then  the  call  of  the  fire- 
bird is  shriller,  and  pitched  on  a  higher  key; 
while  his  love  song  is  an  elaborate  poem  in  mel- 
ody, compared  with  the  blunt  courtship  of  robin 
redbreast  —  just  watch  this  graceful  suitor  some 
morning  as  he  bows  and  scrapes  before  his  lady- 
love to  the  rhythm  of  his  exquisitely  modulated 
song.  Now  running  high  and  loud  with  joyful 


BALTIMORE  ORIOLE.  53 

exultant  love,  then  curving  into  a  low,  soft  ca- 
dence, vibrating  with  caressing  tenderness,  it 
finally  rounds  off  with  broken  notes  of  entreaty  so 
full  of  courtly  devotion  and  submission,  yet,  withal, 
so  musical  and  earnest  with  tender  love,  that  you 
feel  sure  his  suit  can  never  be  denied. 

When  the  oriole  comes  to  build  his  nest  and 
you  compare  his  work  with  that  of  the  robin,  you 
feel  that  you  have  an  artistic  Queen  Anne  beside 
a  rude  mud  hovel.  The  term  hang-nest  is  strictly 
applicable.  The  birds  are  skillful  weavers  and 
build  long,  delicate,  pocket-shaped  nests  that  look 
as  if  made  of  gray  moss.  These  they  hang  from 
the  end  of  a  branch,  as  if  thinking  of  the  first 
line  of  the  old  nursery  rhyme,  — 

"  When  the  wind  blows  the  cradle  will  rock, 
When  the  bough  breaks  the  cradle  will  fall,"  — 

and,  indeed,  the  cradles  are  built  by  such  clever 
workmen  that  the  bough  must  needs  break  to  give 
them  a  fall.  The  nest  looks  as  if  it  barely  touched 
the  twigs  from  which  it  hangs,  but  when  you  ex- 
amine it  you  may  find  that  the  gray  fibres  have 
woven  the  wood  in  so  securely  that  the  nest  would 
have  to  be  torn  in  pieces  before  it  could  be  loos- 
ened from  the  twigs.  What  is  the  nest  made  of  ? 
It  shines  as  if  woven  with  threads  of  gray  silk, 
but  it  must  be  field  silk  from  the  stems  of  plants. 
And  the  horse  hairs  ?  Mr.  Burroughs  tells  of  one 
oriole  who  went  bravely  into  the  back  part  of  a 
horse  stable  for  its  hair  lining.  Sometimes  a  bit 


54       BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

of  twine  or  gay  worsted  thrown  011  the  grass  is 
gladly  accepted,  and  Nuttall  once  saw  an  oriole 
carry  off  a  piece  of  lampwick  ten  or  twelve  feet 
long. 

In  Northampton  I  witnessed  an  interesting  case 
which  proved  that  skill  in  nest  making  as  well 
as  other  crafts  comes  by  hard-earned  experience, 
and,  consequently,  that  manual  training  should 
be  introduced  into  all  bird  schools !  A  pair  of 
young  and  inexperienced  orioles  fell  in  love  and 
set  out,  with  the  assurance  of  most  brides  and 
grooms,  to  build  a  home  for  themselves.  They  suc- 
ceeded admirably  in  the  selection  of  their  build- 
ing site,  but  then  the  trouble  began.  The  premise 
that  all  young  lovers  are  weavers  or  architects 
sometimes  leads  to  dire  syllogistic  conclusions. 
Was  it  the  pressing  business  of  the  honeymoon 
that  interfered  with  the  weaving,  or  was  it  be- 
cause this  young  couple  had  not  yet  learned  how 
to  pull  together  that  their  threads  got  in  a  snarl 
and  their  gray  pocket  was  all  awry  ?  Whatever 
the  reason,  the  cradle  was  altogether  too  short  to 
rock  well,  and  was  skewed  up  in  such  a  fashion 
that  some  of  the  baby  birds  would  have  been  sure 
of  a  smothering.  Like  Grimm's  clever  Elsie  the 
birds  foresaw  all  these  dangers,  and  actually  left 
the  completed  nest  to  be  tossed  by  the  wind  while 
they  went  off  to  try  again  in  another  place.  It 
is  believed  to  be  unusual  for  two  young  birds  to 
pair  together. 


BARN  SWALLOW.  55 

XV. 

BARN    SWALLOW. 

THE  barn  swallow  is  the  handsomest  and  best 
known  of  the  swallows.  It  is  lustrous  steel  blue 
above,  and  has  a  partial  collar  of  the  same  be- 
tween the  deep  chocolate  of  the  chin  and  throat 
and  the  pale  chestnut  of  the  breast. 

What  a  contrast  to  the  ugly  so-called  "  chimney 
swallow  "  !  And  not  in  coloring  only.  Compare 
its  long  forked  tail  with  the  short,  square,  bristly 
tail  of  the  swift.  And  then  watch  its  flight  — 
the  coursing  of  a  Pegasus  beside  the  trotting  of  a 
racer  !  The  swift  has  wonderful  wing  power,  but 
no  grace.  It  flies  as  if  under  wager,  and  when 
hunting,  its  path  might  be  marked  off  by  angles, 
for  it  zigzags  like  a  bat.  But  the  barn  swallow's 
course  is  all  curves.  It  has  the  freest  flight  of 
any  bird  I  have  ever  seen.  It  seems  absolutely 
without  effort  or  constraint. 

The  swallows  are  so  agile  they  often  dart  down 
as  you  drive  along  the  road,  and  circle  around 
and  around  you,  managing  dexterously  to  keep 
just  ahead  of  the  horses.  At  other  tunes  they 
run  and  circle  away  over  the  fields  and  through 
the  sky,  and  at  sunset  often  haunt  our  rivers  or 
lakes,  skimming  low  over  the  surface  and  some- 
times dipping  down  for  a  drink  as  they  go. 

At  rest,  they  sit  side  by  side  on  the  ridge-pole 


56       BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

of  a  barn  or  on  a  telegraph  wire,  where  they  look 
like  rows  of  little  mutes.  It  is  funny  enough  to 
see  them  light  on  a  wire.  Fluttering  over  it  for 
a  moment  before  settling  down,  they  sway  back 
and  forth  till  you  are  sure  they  must  fall  off. 


The  roads  afford  them  much  occupation.  When 
not  making  statistics  about  the  passers-by,  or  col- 
lecting mud  for  their  nests,  they  take  dust  baths 
in  the  road.  They  usually  build  inside  barns  or 
covered  bridges,  lining  their  nests  with  feathers, 
but  a  case  is  recorded  of  a  nest  under  the  eaves  of 
a  house,  which  was  made  entirely  of  "  rootlets  and 
grass,"  though  thickly  lined  with  downy  chicken 
feathers.  Mr.  Burroughs  tells  of  a  barn  nest 
"  saddled  in  the  loop  of  a  rope  that  was  pendant 
from  a  peg  in  the  peak." 


BELTED  KINGFISHER.  57 

Of  the  notes  of  the  barn  swallow  Mr.  Bicknell 
says :  "  An  almost  universal  misconception  re- 
gards the  swallows  as  a  tribe  of  songless  birds. 
But  the  barn  swallow  has  as  true  claims  to  song 
as  many  species  of  long-established  recognition  as 
song  birds.  Its  song  is  a  low,  chattering  trill .  .  . 
often  terminating  with  a  clear  liquid  note  with  an 
accent  as  of  interrogation,  not  unlike  one  of  the 
notes  of  the  canary.  This  song  is  wholly  distinct 
from  the  quick,  double  -  syllabled  note  which  so 
constantly  escapes  the  bird  during  flight." 


XVI. 

BELTED  KINGFISHER. 

THE  robin  lives  on  neighborly  terms  in  our 
dooryard,  the  swift  secretes  himself  in  our  chim- 
neys, the  humming-bird  hovers  in  our  gardens, 
the  barn  swallow  circles  around  our  barns,  the 
catbird  talks  to  himself  in  our  orchards,  the  oriole 
hangs  his  "  hammock  "  from  our  elms,  the  bobo- 
link holds  gay  possession  of  our  fields  till  the 
mower  comes  to  dispute  his  claim,  and  the  yellow- 
hammer  appoints  himself  inspector  general  of  our 
ant-hills,  fence-posts,  and  tree  trunks ;  but  the 
kingfisher  cares  nothing  for  us  or  our  habitations. 
He  goes  off  by  himself  into  the  heart  of  the  wil- 
derness, not  to  crouch  among  the  brown  leaves  on 
the  ground  like  the  partridge,  but  to  fly  high  and 


58    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

far  over  river   and  lake,  calling   loudly  to  the 
echoes  as  he  goes. 

He  is  the  most  marked  of  the  trillers,  having  a 
loud,  rapid  call  that  Wilson  compares  to  a  watch- 
man's rattle,  and  that,  as  Mr.  Burroughs  ingen- 


iously suggests,  reminds  you  of  an  alarm  clock.  He 
usually  gives  it  when  on  the  wing,  and  if  on  hear- 
ing him  you  look  up  in  time,  you  will  see  a  large, 
ungainly  slate-blue  bird,  with  an  odd  flight  —  his 
short  tail  making  him  out  of  proportion  so  that  his 
wings  seem  too  far  back.  As  he  flies  over,  you 
note  his  big,  heavily-crested  head,  his  dark  collar, 


BELTED  KINGFISHER.  59 

and  his  glistening  white  throat.  If  he  lights  on 
a  dead  stub  by  the  water,  and  you  can  see  the 
compact,  oily  plumage  that  is  adapted  for  cold 
plunges,  you  will  think  him  handsome  in  spite  of 
his  topheaviness.  He  sits  like  the  catbird,  and 
watches  the  fish  come  toward  the  surface.  But 
before  they  know  what  has  happened  they  are 
wriggling  in  his  bill.  After  catching  a  fish  he 
quickly  carries  it  back  to  his  perch,  to  be  devoured 
at  his  leisure. 

The  kingfisher  shows  us  a  new  style  of  nest, 
though  it  might  seem  that  there  had  been  variety 
enough  before.  There  was  the  "  adobe  house  " 
of  the  robin,  the  coarse  bundle  of  sticks  gathered 
by  the  crow,  the  exquisite  lichen-covered  cup  of 
the  humming-bird,  the  loose,  clumsy-looking  nests 
of  the  catbird  and  cuckoo,  the  frame  house  rented 
by  the  bluebird,  the  tiny  wall  pocket  glued  to  the 
chimney  by  the  swift,  the  grass  houses  of  the  bob- 
olink and  meadow-lark,  the  mud  bowl  of  the  barn 
swallow,  the  airy  gray  pocket  of  the  oriole,  and 
the  snug  wooden  retreats  of  the  chickadee  and 
yellow  hammer.  But  here  is  something  stranger 
than  any  of  them  —  a  burrow  in  the  earth,  that 
might  well  be  the  hole  of  some  shy  animal  rather 
than  the  home  of  a  bird.  It  is  usually  dug  in 
the  banks  of  rivers  or  streams. 

As  the  kingfisher  spends  most  of  his  time  on 
the  wing,  his  feet  are  small  and  weak,  different 
enough  from  the  powerful  feet  and  claws  of  the 


60        BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

blackbirds  and  orioles.  What  a  woodsman  the 
kingfisher  must  be  !  Do  the  hemlock's  longest 
branches  tip  to  the  east  ?  Does  the  lichen  grow 
on  the  north  side  of  the  trees  ?  Ask  him  for  his 
compass.  He  needs  no  trail.  Follow  him  and  he 
will  teach  you  the  secrets  of  the  forest.  For  here 
lies  the  witchcraft  of  our  new  world  halcyon, 
rather  than  in  the  charming  of  sailors'  lives,  or  in 
the  stilling  of  the  sea. 

XVII. 

CHIP-BIRD  OR  CHIPPY;  HAIR-BIRD;  CHIPPING 
SPARROW;  SOCIAL  SPARROW. 

WE  have  already  had  "  chimney  swallows  "  that 
were  not  swallows,  crow  blackbirds  that  were  not 
crows,  partridges  that  were  grouse,  and  kingfishers 
that  dug  holes  in  the  ground,  besides  bluebirds 
and  humming-birds  and  robins  and  chickadees  and 
catbirds  and  cuckoos,  all  crowded  together ;  and 
now  we  are  coming  to  that  vexatious  family,  the 
sparrows.  How  can  any  one  be  expected  to  re- 
member such  a  medley  long  enough  to  know  the 
birds  out  of  doors?  I  never  really  knew  them 
until  I  pigeon-holed  them,  and  I  believe  that  is 
the  best  way.  But  how  shall  we  go  to  work  ? 

Ornithologists  separate  our  birds  into  seventeen 
orders,  and  divide  these  into  numerous  families 
and  genera  and  species.  We  should  have  to  turn 


CHIPPY.  61 

pension-office  clerks  to  get  pigeon-holes  enough  for 
them !  But  twelve  of  the  seventeen  we  shall  leave 
entirely  alone,  —  the  divers,  all  kinds  of  swim- 
mers, waders,  herons,  cranes,  parrots,  and  others 
that  most  of  us  never  see  outside  of  museums.  Of 
the  five  orders  left,  four  are  quickly  disposed  of. 
The  partridge  will  be  our  only  representative  of 
the  "gallinaceous  birds,"  the  cuckoos  and  king- 
fishers of  the  order  of  "  cuckoos,  etc.,"  the  wood- 
peckers of  the  "  woodpeckers,  etc.,"  and  the  swift, 
humming-bird,  night-hawk,  and  whippoorwill  of 
the  "goatsuckers,  swifts,  etc." 

There  are  so  few  of  these,  and  they  are  so  scat- 
tered, that  it  does  not  seem  worth  while  to  give  up 
part  of  our  pigeon-holes  to  them,  so  we  will  put 
them  away  in  a  drawer  by  themselves,  and  keep 
our  pigeon-holes  free  for  the  one  order  left,  —  the 
highest  of  all,  — that  of  the  "  perching  birds."  It 
has  twenty-one  families,  but  we  need  only  four- 
teen holes  because  there  are  seven  families  that 
we  shall  not  take  up.  So  our  best  way  is  to  paste 
the  label  "perching  birds"  over  our  fourteen 
holes,  and  then,  while  remembering  that  we  have 
left  out  seven  families,  number  each  hole  and  put 
in  the  birds  as  they  come  in  their  natural  order  of 
development  from  low  to  high. 

The  crow  goes  in  No.  2  by  himself  at  present. 
The  bobolink,  meadow-lark,  crow  blackbird,  and 
oriole  all  go  into  No.  3,  because  they  belong  to  the 
family  of  "  blackbirds,  orioles,  etc.,"  although  they 


62      BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

represent  different  branches,  or  genera.  Chippy 
goes  into  No.  4  to  wait  for  the  other  "finches, 
sparrows,  etc.,"  the  barn  swallow  will  go  into  No. 
6,  which  belongs  to  "  the  swallows,"  the  catbird 
into  No.  10,  the  chickadee  into  No.  12,  and  the 
robin  and  bluebird  into  No.  14,  —  the  last  hole,  — 
as  they  belong  to  the  most  highly  developed  fam- 
ily of  all  the  birds,  that  of  the  "  thrushes,  blue- 
birds, etc." 

This  simplifies  matters.  The  chimney  swift 
belongs  to  an  entirely  different  order  from  the 
swallows,  —  a  much  lower  one,  —  and  so  was  put 
in  the  drawer,  together  with  the  kingfisher,  whose 
feet  are  weak  and  who  nests  in  the  ground.  Now 
all  the  "  perching  birds  "  we  have  had  fall  readily 
into  place.  The  crow  is  by  himself  in  No.  2,  as 
the  blackbirds  in  No.  3  differ  from  him  in  having 
wives  smaller  than  themselves,  and  in  anatomical 
and  technical  peculiarities  that  are  the  foundation 
of  all  the  divisions  we  have. 

But  here  is  chippy  in  No.  4 ;  let  us  see  how  he 
is  related  to  the  other  birds.  First,  what  does  he 
look  like?  Although  one  of  those  "little  gray 
birds  "  that  vex  the  spirit  of  the  tyro,  he  is  well 
known  as  the  smallest  and  most  friendly  of  our 
sparrows.  All  the  sparrows  are  small,  dull  colored 
birds,  none  of  them  being  much  more  than  half  as 
large  as  a  robin.  But  he  is  marked  by  a  reddish- 
brown  cap,  edged  by  a  delicate  white  line  over  eye 
and  cheek.  His  back  is  streaked  with  grayish- 


CHIPPY.  63 

brown  and  black,  his  wings  are  crossed  by  narrow 
whitish  bars,  and  underneath  he  is  a  pure  light 
ash  color. 

Notice  the  bill  chippy  has  to  crack  seeds  with. 
It  is  the  short,  thick,  conical  bill  of  the  family, 
and  contrasts  not  only  with  the  long  slender  bills 
of  the  worm -eating  robin  and  bluebird  in  No. 
14,  but  with  those  of  the  oriole,  crow  blackbird, 
and  meadow-lark  in  No.  3.  The  bobolink  shows 
the  nearness  of  No.  3  and  4  in  his  partly  conical 
bill,  and  also  in  flight,  though,  by  coloring,  he  is 
more  closely  related  to  the  crow  in  No.  2.  It  is 
hardly  necessary  to  suggest  the  differences  that 
separate  chippy  from  the  chimney  swift,  the  ruffed 
grouse,  the  humming-bird,  the  cuckoo,  and  the 
ant-eating  yellow  hammer. 

Of  our  common  sparrows  chippy  alone  has  no 
real  song,  but  he  trills  away  monotonously, — 
by  the  hour,  you  are  tempted  to  think,  —  with 
cheerful  perseverance  that  would  grace  a  better 
cause.  He  is  called  "  hair-bird  "  because  he  lines 
his  nest  with  horse  or  cow  hair,  and  when  you 
think  of  the  close  observation  and  industry  it  takes 
to  find  this  hair  you  will  recognize  not  only  the 
power  of  inherited  habit  but  the  fitness  of  the 
name  hair-bird. 

Last  summer  a  chipping  sparrow  built  in  a  jas- 
mine bush  in  the  crotch  of  a  neighbor's  piazza. 
When  the  little  mother  was  startled  by  intruders 
she  would  dart  into  the  bush,  crouch  down,  flatten 


64       BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

her  head,  and  try  to  make  herself  invisible,  but 
she  had  too  many  frights  and  at  last  abandoned 
her  nest.  In  a  grape-vine  on  top  of  a  trellis  in 
the  garden  in  front  of  the  cottage  another  chippy 
had  built.  She  seemed  to  be  fearless,  never  stir- 
ring even  when  we  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  trellis 
and  stared  at  her. 

I  found  several  nests  in  Norway  spruces.  One 
was  near  a  farm-house.  It  was  on  a  bough  hidden 
so  skillfully  under  an  evergreen  twig  that  I  had 
much  ado  to  find  it,  and  there  was  barely  room  for 
even  the  small  mother  bird  to  get  up  to  it.  But  the 
four  little  dark  blue  eggs  wreathed  with  purplish 
dots  around  the  larger  ends,  as  they  lay  clustered 
on  their  mat  of  brown  rootlets,  made  a  sight  to 
repay  a  longer  hunt.  With  all  her  care  the  poor 
mother  was  not  able  to  conceal  her  little  ones.  A 
hungry  chipmunk  discovered  them,  and  was  shot 
by  the  farmer  when  it  was  swallowing  the  last  one 
of  the  four. 

In  summer  the  chipping  birds  haunt  the  piazza, 
coming  almost  to  our  feet  for  crumbs.  Last  season 
two  broods  were  brought  by  their  mothers,  and  it 
was  diverting  to  watch  them.  The  mothers  drove 
each  other  about  in  a  scandalous  fashion,  and,  what 
was  worse,  would  not  feed  each  other's  children, 
but  turned  their  backs  in  the  most  hard-hearted 
way  even  when  the  hungry  youngsters  ran  up  in 
front  of  them  and  stood  with  wide  open  bills  teas- 
ing for  food.  As  the  babies  grew  older  I  suspect 


CHIPPY.  65 

their  mothers  poisoned  their  minds,  too,  for  as 
nearly  as  I  could  make  out  a  coldness  grew  up  be- 
tween the  families  of  infants. 

The  old  chipping  birds  are  very  intelligent. 
The  turn  of  the  head  and  the  quick  glance  from 
the  eye  show  that  their  familiar  bravery  is  due  to 
no  thoughtless  confidence,  but  is  based  on  keen 
observation  and  bird  wit. 

The  young  birds  seem  more  trustful  and  are 
dear  fluffy  little  creatures.  When  they  get  to  be 
as  big  as  their  mothers  and  know  perfectly  well 
how  to  feed  themselves,  the  la/y  babies  will  often 
stand  helplessly  right  in  the  middle  of  a  handful 
of  crumbs,  and  chirr  at  their  mother  till  she  picks 
the  crumbs  up  and  drops  them  in  their  bills. 

One  day  I  found  a  young  chippy  sitting  on  the 
picket  of  a  fence.  His  mother  soon  flew  up  onto 
the  picket  next  to  him  with  his  dinner  in  her  bill 
and  leaned  over  trying  to  reach  it  across.  It  was 
a  comical  proceeding,  the  baby  fluttering  his 
wings,  opening  his  mouth,  crying  out  and  bobbing 
toward  his  mother  while  she  stretched  across  till 
—  well,  both  birds  came  near  a  tumble  before 
they  gave  it  up. 

Chipping  birds  are  always  about,  in  the  garden, 
on  the  lawn,  and  around  the  house.  The  back 
door  with  its  boundless  possibilities  in  the  crumb 
line  attracts  them  strongly.  At  one  house,  for 
several  years,  a  number  of  them  came  to  the  back 
yard  every  day  when  the  chickens  were  fed.  They 


66        BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

sat  on  the  fence  till  the  first  rush  and  scramble 
were  over,  and  then  flew  down  among  the  hens  to 
get  their  dinner. 

XVIII. 

SONG    SPARROW. 

THE  song  sparrow,  of  course,  goes  into  the  same 
pigeon-hole  as  chippy  —  No.  4,  "  finches,  spar- 
rows, etc.,"  —  showing  the  same  sparrow  traits  in 
coloring,  size,  bill,  and  flight ;  and  the  same  con- 
trasts with  the  crow  in  No.  2,  the  "  blackbirds, 
orioles,  etc.,"  in  No.  3,  the  "  swallows  "  in  No.  6, 
and  the  robin  and  bluebird  among  the  "  thrushes, 
bluebirds,  etc.,"  of  No.  14.  But  with  all  this,  our 
little  friend  has  a  marked  individuality,  and  dif- 
fers from  his  small  cousin  chippy  in  temper  and 
charm.  I  may  be  prejudiced,  but  while  I  admire 
chippy  for  his  bravery  and  intelligence  I  do  not 
find  him  as  winsome  as  this  simple  little  bird  with 
his  homely  cheeriness. 

In  the  spring  the  song  sparrow  comes  North  a 
few  days  after  the  robin,  and  although  the  chill 
from  the  snow  banks  gives  him  a  sore  throat  that 
makes  his  voice  husky,  you  may  hear  him  singing 
as  brightly  as  if  he  had  come  back  on  purpose  to 
bring  spring  to  the  poor  snow-bound  farmers. 
Even  his  chirp  —  of  rich  contralto  quality  com- 
pared with  the  thin  chip  of  his  cousin  —  has  a 


SONG  SPARROW.  67 

genuine  happy  ring  that  raises  one's  spirits  ;  and 
when  he  throws  up  his  head  and  sings  the  sweet 
song  that  gives  him  his  name,  you  feel  sure  the 
world  is  worth  living  in. 

The  song  sparrow's  brown  coat  has  little  beauty, 
but  his  dark  breastpin,  surrounded  by  brown 
streaks,  sets  off  his  light  gray  waistcoat  to  advan- 
tage ;  and  the  brown  topknot  that  he  raises  when 
interested  gives  him  a  winning  air  of  sympathetic 
attention. 

The  song  sparrows  are  not  about  the  house  as 
much  as  the  chippies,  and  last  summer  they  began 
coming  for  crumbs  a  week  later  in  the  nesting 
season  than  their  ubiquitous  cousins.  Then  it 
was  amusing  to  see  the  business-like  way  in  which 
they  hopped  about,  their  tails  perked  up  and 
their  wings  close  to  their  sides.  There  was  one 
that  walked  like  a  blackbird,  and  when  he  ran  it 
seemed  a  waste  of  energy  —  he  had  so  much  more 
to  do  than  if  he  had  hopped  ! 

The  usual  note  of  the  song  sparrow  is  a  rich 
"  tschip"  as  Thoreau  gives  it ;  but  when  nesting  it 
has  an  odd  thin  chip  that  sounds  so  like  the  note 
of  a  young  bird  that  it  deceived  me  into  hunting 
through  the  bushes  when  the  old  bird  who  was 
really  making  it  was  in  plain  sight.  The  spar- 
row's song  is  the  first  set  song  likely  to  attract 
your  attention  when  listening  to  the  birds  near 
the  house,  and  as  Thoreau  says,  is  "  more  honest- 
sounding  than  most."  The  song  consists  of  one 


68       BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

high  note  repeated  three  times,  and  a  rapid  run 
down  the  scale  and  back ;  but  it  varies  greatly 
with  individuals,  and  almost  every  writer  renders 
it  differently. 

In  choosing  the  site  for  its  nest,  the  song  spar- 
row adapts  itself  to  circumstances  with  the  grace 
of  a  true  philosopher.  At  one  time  content  with 
making  a  rude  mat  of  straw  at  the  bottom  of  a 
roadside  brush  heap,  at  another  it  builds  in  a 
willow,  using  the  woolly  catkins  to  soften  the  bed ; 
and  frequently  it  nests  right  on  the  ground,  when 
the  farmers  call  it  the  "  ground  sparrow."  But 
the  prettiest  site  of  any  I  have  ever  known  was 
in  a  sweetbriar  bush  on  the  edge  of  the  garden. 
Here  the  little  mother  could  be  lulled  into  her 
noon-day  nap  by  the  droning  of  the  bumble-bees 
buzzing  about  the  garden ;  or,  if  she  chose,  watch 
the  fluttering  butterflies  and  quivering  humming- 
birds hovering  over  the  bright  flowers.  Every 
breath  of  air  brought  her  the  perfume  of  the  briar 
leaves,  and  when  the  pink  buds  unfolded  she  could 
tell  off  the  days  of  her  brooding  by  the  petals  that 
fluttered  to  the  ground. 


BLUE  JAY.  69 

XIX. 

BLUE   JAY. 

THE  blue  jay  comes  with  a  dash  and  a  flourish. 
As  Thoreau  says,  he  "  blows  the  trumpet  of  win- 
ter." Unlike  the  chickadee,  whose  prevailing 
tints  match  the  winter  sky,  and  whose  gentle  day- 
day-day  chimes  with  the  softly  falling  snows,  the 
blue  jay  would  wake  the  world  up.  His  "  clario- 
net "  peals  over  the  villages  asleep  in  the  snow- 
drifts as  if  it  would  rouse  even  the  smoke  that 
drowses  over  their  white  roofs.  He  brings  the 
vigor  and  color  of  winter.  He  would  send  the 
shivering  stay-at-homes  jingling  merrily  over  the 
fields,  and  start  the  children  coasting  down  the 
hills.  Wake-up,  wake-up,  come-out,  come-out  he 
calls,  and  blows  a  blast  to  show  what  winter  is 
good  for. 

And  so  he  flashes  about,  and  screams  and  scolds 
till  we  crawl  to  the  window  to  look  at  him.  Ha  ! 
what  a  handsome  bird !  He  has  found  the  break- 
fast hung  on  the  tree  for  him  and  clings  to  it 
pecking  away  with  the  appetite  of  a  Greenlander. 
Not  a  hint  of  winter  in  his  coloring !  Note  his 
purplish  back  as  he  bends  over,  the  exquisite 
cobalt  blue,  touched  off  with  black  and  white  on 
his  wings,  and  the  black  barring  on  the  tightly 
closed  tail  he  is  bracing  himself  by.  How  distin- 
guished his  dark  necklace  and  handsome  blue 


70       BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

crest  make  him  look !  There  !  he  is  off  again, 
and  before  we  think  where  he  is  going  we  hear 
the  echo  of  his  rousing  phe-phay,  phe-phay  from 
the  depths  of  the  woods. 


In  many  places  the  jays  are  common  winter 
residents,  pitching  their  tents  with  the  hens  and 
barnyard  animals  and  comporting  themselves  with 
familiar  assurance.  But  in  this  region  they  are 
irregular  guests.  Sometimes  they  are  here  for  a 
few  days  in  the  fall,  or  visit  us  when  the  hawks 


BLUE  JAY.  71 

return  in  spring,  teasing  the  young  observer  by 
imitating  the  cry  of  the  redtailed  hawk.  But  if 
the  fancy  takes  them  they  spend  the  winter  with 
us,  showing  comparatively  little  of  the  timidity 
they  feel  in  some  localities. 

Last  fall  a  party  of  jays  stayed  here  for  some 
time,  but  when  I  was  congratulating  myself  on 
having  them  for  the  winter,  they  left,  and  did  not 
return  till  the  middle  of  January.  Then  one 
morning  one  of  them  appeared  suddenly  on  a  tree 
in  front  of  the  window.  He  seemed  to  have  been 
there  before,  for  he  flew  straight  down  to  the  corn 
boxes  by  the  dining-room.  The  gray  squirrels 
had  nibbled  out  the  sweetest  part  of  the  kernels, 
and  he  acted  dissatisfied  with  what  was  left,  drop- 
ping several  pieces  after  he  had  picked  them  up. 
But  at  last  he  swallowed  a  few  kernels  and  then 
took  three  or  four  in  his  bill  at  once  and  flew  up 
in  a  maple.  He  must  have  deposited  some  of 
them  in  a  crotch  at  the  body  of  the  tree,  for  after 
he  had  broken  one  in  two  under  his  claw  —  strik- 
ing it  with  "  sledge-hammer  blows  "  —  he  went  back 
to  the  crotch,  picked  up  something,  flew  back  on 
the  branch,  and  went  through  the  process  over 
again.  The  second  time  he  flew  down  to  the  corn 
boxes  he  did  the  same  thing  —  ate  two  or  three 
kernels,  and  then  filled  his  bill  full  and  flew  oft 
—  this  time  out  of  sight.  Since  then  I  have  often 
seen  him  carry  his  corn  off  in  the  same  way,  giv- 
ing his  head  a  little  toss  to  throw  the  kernels  back 


72       BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

in  his  bill  as  he  was  loading  up.  Wilson  calls 
attention  to  the  fact  that  by  this  habit  of  carrying 
off  kernels  and  seeds,  the  jay  becomes  an  impor- 
tant tree-planting  agent. 

What  a  good  business  man  the  blue  jay  would 
make  !  All  his  motions  are  like  the  unique  load- 
ing up  performance  —  time  -  saving,  decided,  di- 
rect. Once  during  the  first  morning  after  his  re- 
turn he  flew  down  to  the  boxes  from  the  tree  over 
them  and  came  so  straight  he  looked  as  if  falling 
through  the  air.  He  pecked  at  the  bark  of  the 
trees  as  indifferently  as  he  had  examined  the  corn 
the  squirrels  had  nibbled,  but  I  thought  he  drank 
with  some  gusto.  He  seemed  to  be  catching  the 
rain  drops  that  were  running  down  the  sides  of 
the  trees  and  filling  the  crevices  of  the  bark. 

After  he  had  flown  off  and  the  gray  squirrels 
were  comfortably  settled  at  breakfast,  he  came 
dashing  back  round  the  corner  in  such  a  hurry 
he  almost  struck  the  squirrel  on  the  lower  corn 
box.  The  first  thing  I  saw  was  a  confusion  of 
blue  feathers  and  gray  fur,  and  then  a  blue  jay 
flying  off  to  the  evergreen,  and  a  gray  squirrel 
shaking  his  tail  excitedly  and  starting  from  one 
side  of  the  box  to  the  other  trying  to  collect  his 
wits.  By  this  time  the  blue  jay  had  recovered 
from  his  surprise,  and  seeing  that  it  was  only  a 
squirrel,  hopped  about  in  the  spruce  as  full  of 
business  as  if  the  collision  had  been  planned.  Not 
so  with  the  poor  squirrel !  He  sprang  up  on  the 


BLUE  JAY.  73 

highest  box,  stretching  straight  up  on  his  hind 
legs,  with  fore  paws  pressed  against  his  breast 
and  ears  erect,  his  heart  beating  his  sides  and  his 
tail  hanging  down  shamefacedly  as  he  looked 
Anxiously  toward  the  spruce  where  the  blue  jay 
had  gone.  Gradually  the  fear  on  his  face  changed 
to  a  comical  look  of  bewilderment.  Could  that 
bird  flying  about  as  if  nothing  had  happened  be 
what  struck  him,  or  had  he  gone  to  sleep  over  his 
corn  and  had  a  bad  dream  ?  He  settled  down  on 
his  haunches  with  an  expression  of  inane  confu- 
sion, and  finally  turned  back  into  his  corn  box,  a 
sorry  contrast  to  the  clear-headed  blue  jay. 

This  was  the  first  morning  the  jays  came,  and 
we  were  greatly  entertained  watching  the  develop- 
ment of  affairs.  There  were  only  three  birds 
that  were  regular  patrons  of  the  corn  barrel  res- 
taurant, while  there  were  thirteen  gray  squirrels, 
and  when  the  squirrels  got  over  their  first  sur- 
prise they  seemed  to  consider  the  jays  an  insig- 
nificant minority.  There  were  no  claw -to -bill 
tussles,  for  when  a  jay  was  eating  on  a  corn  box 
by  the  side  of  the  tree,  and  a  squirrel  ran  down 
the  trunk  right  above  him,  and  gave  a  jump  that 
promised  to  land  him  on  the  jay's  head,  the  bird 
would  quietly  fly  off.  But  such  meekness  was  no 
sign  of  discomfiture.  The  jays  came  back  as  often 
as  they  were  driven  away.  If  the  squirrels  ob- 
jected to  their  eating  on  a  corner  of  the  box  with 
them,  the  jays  would  hop  down  on  the  snow  and 


74        BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

pick  up  the  corn  the  squirrels  had  scattered  there. 
They  were  so  persistent,  and  at  the  same  time  so 
dignified  and  peaceable,  that  the  squirrels  could 
not  hold  out  against  them  ;  and  though  for  a  time 
the  birds  took  advantage  of  the  squirrels'  laziness 
and  got  a  good  breakfast  mornings  before  the 
sleepy  fur  coats  appeared,  two  or  three  weeks  of 
10° — 20°  below  zero  silenced  the  squirrel's  last 
prior-claims  argument  and  the  jays  were  allowed 
to  eat  undisturbed  from  the  same  boxes  with 
them. 

But  it  is  not  only  the  squirrels  that  the  blue 
jays  dine  with,  for  one  day  last  winter  the  little 
three-year-old  came  running  out  of  the  dining- 
room  in  great  excitement,  crying,  "  Oh,  grandpa  ! 
come  quick  !  There  are  three  partridges,  and  one 
of  them  is  a  blue  jay  !  "  Indeed,  the  other  day 
the  blue  jays  quite  took  possession  of  the  corn 
barrels  that  are  the  special  property  of  the  part- 
ridges. The  barrels  stand  under  the  branches  of 
a  Norway  spruce  on  either  side  of  a  snow-shoe 
path  that  runs  from  the  house,  and  though  the 
jays  were  self-invited  guests,  I  could  not  help  ad- 
miring the  picture  they  made,  they  flying  about 
and  sitting  on  the  barrels,  the  dark  green  of  the 
boughs  bringing  out  the  handsome  blue  of  their 
coats. 

But  the  spot  where  I  have  found  the  blue  jays 
most  at  home  is  in  the  dense  coniferous  forests  of 
the  Adirondacks.  I  shall  never  forget  seeing  a 


BLUE  JAY.  75 

flock  of  them  on  Black  Mountain.  From  the  top 
of  the  mountain  the  wilderness  looked  like  a  sea 
of  forest-clad  hills,  with  an  occasional  reef  out- 
lined by  surf,  for  the  largest  lakes  seemed  like 
tracery  in  the  vast  expanse  of  forest.  The  im- 
pressive stillness  was  broken  only  by  the  rare 
cries  of  a  pair  of  hawks  that  circled  over  the 
mountain ;  for  the  most  part  they  soared,  silent  as 
the  wilderness  below  them.  Coming  down  into 
the  forest  primeval,  where  the  majestic  hemlocks 
towered  straight  toward  the  sky,  and  their  mas- 
sive knotted  roots  bound  down  the  granite  bowl- 
ders that  showed  on  the  mountain  side — there  we 
found  the  blue  jays  in  their  home.  A  flock  of 
them  lived  together,  feeding  on  wild  berries  and 
beechnuts,  sporting  among  the  ferns  and  mosses, 
and  drinking  from  the  brook  that  babbled  along 
near  the  trail.  What  a  home  our  handsome  birds 
had  chosen !  But  the  memory  of  the  spot  is 
dreary.  Unmoved  by  the  beauty  of  the  scene,  to 
which  the  blue  jays  gave  color  and  life  ;  unawed 
by  the  benedicite  of  the  hemlocks  ;  betraying  the 
trust  of  the  friendly  birds,  the  boy  of  the  party 
crept  into  their  very  home  and  shot  down  one 
after  another  of  the  family  as  they  stood  resistless 
before  him.  To-day  the  pitiful  lament  of  the 
brave  old  birds  haunts  me,  for,  forgetting  to  fear 
for  themselves,  those  that  were  left  flew  about  in 
wild  distress,  and  their  cries  of  almost  human 
suffering  reached  us  long  after  we  had  left  the 
desecrated  spot. 


76        BIRDS  TUROUGU  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

XX. 

YELLOW-BIRD  ;   AMERICAN   GOLDFINCH  ;   THISTLE- 
BIRD. 

THROW  yourself  down  among  the  buttercups 
and  daisies  some  cloudless  summer  day  and  look 
up  at  the  sky  till  its  wondrous  blueness  thrills 
through  you  as  an  ecstacy.  Then  catch  your 
breath  and  listen,  while  out  of  the  air  comes  a 
clear  fluid  note  of  rapture.  Ah  !  there  is  the 
'little  goldfinch  —  a  bit  of  the  sun's  own  gold  — 
sauntering  through  the  air,  rising  and  falling  to 

the  rhythm  of  his  own  \          T  V  \      This  way  and 

dee-ree  dee-ee-ree. 

that  he  flits,  at  each  call  fluttering  his  wings  and 
then  letting  himself  float  down  on  the  air.  Spring 
up  from  the  meadow  and  follow  him  till  down 
from  the  blue  sky  he  comes  to  alight  airily  on  a 
pink  thistle -top.  Then  as  he  bends  over  and 
daintily  plucks  out  the  tiny  seeds  that  would  soon 
have  been  ballooning  through  the  air,  you  can  ad- 
mire the  glossy  black  cap,  wings,  and  tail  that 
touch  off  his  slender  gold  form. 

Who  would  ever  take  this  fairy-like  beauty  for 
a  cousin  of  our  plain  chippy  and  song  sparrow  ? 
And  yet  —  his  bill  and  size  and  family  traits 
are  the  same.  Pigeon-hole  No.  4  was  marked 
"finches,  sparrows,  etc.,"  and  he  is  one  of  the 


YELLOW -BIRD. 


77 


finches.  He  seems  near  enough  like  the  sparrows 
too,  when  you  think  how  unlike  he  is  to  the  black- 
birds and  orioles  of  No.  3,  or  the  swallows  of  No. 
6,  the  catbird  of  No.  10,  and  the  robin  or  blue- 
bird of  No.  14. 

Even  the  chickadee  from  No.  12  is  a  strong 
contrast  to  him.     His  slender  frame  fits  him  for 


flying  through  the  air,  while  the  chickadee's 
plump,  fluffy  figure  is  suited  to  flitting  about  tree- 
trunks  and  branches.  Early  in  the  spring  the 
chickadee  goes  to  the  woods,  and,  using  his  pointed 
bill  as  a  pick-axe,  picks  out  a  nest  hole  in  the  side 
of  a  stump  or  tree  trunk.  But  the  goldfinch 
waits  until  July,  and  then,  going  to  the  nearest 
orchard,  chooses  a  plum  or  apple-tree  crotch  and 
sets  about  making  a  basket  to  fit  it.  He  peels 


78        BIRDS   TUROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

the  bark  from  some  slender  weed  for  the  outside, 
and  pilfers  a  thistle-top  or  the  silk  storeroom  of 
some  other  plant  for  a  lining. 

An  old  nest  the  children  brought  me  last  fall 
had  a  veritable  feather-bed  of  down  in  it,  on  top 
of  the  usual  silky  lining,  and  it  stuffed  the  cup  so 
full  there  seemed  hardly  room  enough  for  the 
eggs.  It  looked  as  if  two  or  three  whole  thistle- 
tops  had  been  put  in  and  matted  down. 

Last  year  a  pair  of  goldfinches  built  in  a  plum- 
tree  by  the  side  of  a  carriage  drive,  so  low  that 
on  tiptoe  I  could  reach  into  the  nest  to  count  over 
the  eggs  from  day  to  day.  And  what  dainty  light 
blue  shells  they  had.  Just  as  if  bits  of  blue  sky 
had  fallen  into  the  nest !  The  mother-bird  must 
have  guessed  my  delight  in  her  treasures,  for  she 
would  sit  quietly  on  a  tree  a  few  feet  away  with 
an  air  that  said  quite  plainly,  "  Are  n't  they  dear 
little  eggs  ?  You  can  look  at  them  just  as  long 
as  you  like.  I  '11  wait  here  till  you  get  through !  " 

As  the  goldfinches  nest  so  much  later  than 
most  birds,  the  young  are  barely  out  before  the 
warblers  and  other  of  the  birds  begin  migrating. 
I  have  seen  the  little  ones  teasing  their  father  for 
food  late  in  September.  One  day  I  saw  one  fed 
on  the  head  of  a  big  sunflower. 

I  am  afraid  Mr.  Goldfinch  is  not  a  good  dis- 
ciplinarian, for  his  babies  follow  him  around  flut- 
tering their  wings,  opening  their  mouths,  and 
crying  tweet-ee,  tweet-ee,  tweet-ee,  tweet-ee,  with 


YELLOW -BIRD.  79 

an  insistence  that  suggests  lax  family  government. 
Some  one  should  provide  him  with  a  bundle  of 
timothy  stalks !  And  yet  who  would  have  our 
fairy  use  the  .rod  ?  Just  listen  to  him  some  day 
as  he  flies  away  from  his  nest,  singing  over  to  him- 
self in  tones  of  exquisite  love  and  tenderness 
his  sweet  bay-bee,  bay-ee-bee,  and  you  will  feel 
that  the  little  father  has  a  secret  better  than  any 
known  to  the  birch. 

Our  goldfinch  is  not  a  musician  when  it  comes 
to  his  long  song.  That  is  a  canary  jumble  of 
notes  whose  greatest  charm  is  its  light-hearted- 
ness.  But  though  he  is  not  as  finished  a  songster 
as  the  canary,  during  the  summer  he  is  much 
prettier,  for  then  his  yellow  suit  is  richly  trimmed 
with  black  markings.  In  September  however  he 
loses  his  beauty,  and  until  the  next  April  or  May, 
when  his  perilous  travels  are  over  for  the  season, 
looks  much  like  his  plain  little  wife.  His  black 
trimmings  are  gone,  and  he  has  become  flaxen- 
brown  above  and  whitish-brown  below,  —  quite 
commonplace. 

In  connection  with  this  protective  change  in 
plumage  the  "Naturalist"  gives  an  interesting  in- 
stance of  protective  habit,  in  which  the  wise  birds 
disguised  themselves  by  the  help  of  their  bright 
summer  coats.  A  flock  of  them  were  dining  on 
top  of  the  stalks  of  yellow  mullein  that  covered 
the  slope  of  the  embankment  by  which  the  ob- 
server and  his  party  passed.  He  says:  "The 


80        BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

mulleins  were  ranged  in  stiff  files,  like  soldiers  in 
yellow  uniforms,  and  each  bird  as  we  passed  re- 
mained motionless,  looking  like  a  continuation  of 
the  spike,  of  which  one  might  easily  be  deceived 
into  thinking  it  part  and  parcel.  As  soon  as  we 
had  passed  by,  the  birds  were  again  busy,  flitting 
from  plant  to  plant,  feeding  on  the  seeds  and 
enjoying  themselves." 

What  a  difference  it  makes  in  our  thought  of 
winter  to  know  that  our  little  goldfinch  will  never 
find  it  too  cold  to  visit  us.  Being  a  vegetarian,  his 
storehouse  is  always  well  filled,  for  if  the  snow 
covers  the  seeds  he  would  gather  from  the  brown 
weed  tops,  he  goes  to  the  alders  in  the  swamp ; 
and  if  they  fail  him  he  is  sure  to  find  plenty  in  the 
seeds  of  the  hemlock,  the  spruce,  and  the  larch. 


XXI. 

PHCEBE. 

CLASSING  the  crow -blackbird,  bobolink,  and 
oriole  together  in  No.  3  by  their  striking  colors, 
and  distinguishing  the  sparrows  in  No.  4  by  their 
striped  backs,  the  common  flycatchers,  who  belong 
in  our  first  pigeon-hole,  No.  1,  stand  out  as  un- 
striped,  dull,  dark  grayish  birds,  with  light  breasts. 
Mr.  Burroughs  describes  them  as  "sharp-shoul- 
dered, big-headed,  short-legged,  of  no  particular 
color,  of  little  elegance  of  flight  or  movement." 


PHCEBE.  81 

Knowing  that  the  vocal  organs  of  the  flycatch- 
ers are  undeveloped,  you  are  not  surprised  by  the 
contrast  they  present  to  the  sweet-voiced  sparrows 
and  finches,  the  talkative  catbird,  and  the  bobo- 
link, who  is  always  bubbling  over  with  song,  nor 
do  you  wonder  at  the  abrupt  call  of  the  phosbe. 
Although  it  resembles  a  jerking  repetition  of 
I>hce-be,  phce-be,  it  is  not  precisely  what  the  word 
would  indicate.  The  first  part  of  the  call  is  com- 
paratively clear,  but  the  second  is  a  longer  rasping 
note,  with  a  heavily  trilled  r,  making  the  whole 
more  like  phoe-ree,  pkce-ree. 

When  the  birds  first  begin  coming  north  you 
hear  this  note.  When  you  have  traced  it  to  its 
source,  —  and  it  is  an  excellent  habit  to  see  every 
bird  whose  notes  attract  your  attention,  —  the  dull 
olive  gray  coat  and  the  whitish  vest,  with  its 
tinge  of  pale  yellow,  are  soon  forgotten  in  watch- 
ing the  odd  ways  of  the  bird. 

Somewhat  longer  than  a  song  sparrow,  —  two 
thirds  as  large  as  a  robin,  —  he  is  strikingly  unlike 
the  cheery,  busy  sparrow,  or,  in  fact,  like  any  of 
the  birds  we  have  had.  There  he  sits  on  a  branch, 
in  an  attitude  that  would  shock  the  neat  songsters. 
His  wings  droop  at  his  sides,  and  his  tail  hangs 
straight  down  in  the  most  negligent  fashion.  He 
seems  the  personification  of  listlessness  ;  but,  — 
focus  your  glass  on  him,  —  his  wings  are  vibrating, 
and  his  tail  jerks  nervously  at  intervals.  Suddenly 
he  starts  into  the  air,  snaps  his  bill  loudly  over  an 


82       BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

unsuspecting  insect  he  has  been  lying  in  wait  for, 
and  before  you  breathe  settles  back  on  the  branch 
with  a  spasmodic  jerk  of  the  tail. 

And  now,  as  he  sits  looking  for  another  victim, 
you  have  a  good  chance  to  note,  through  your 
glass,  the  peculiarities  of  the  bill  that  gave  such 
a  resounding  "  click."  Birds'  bills  are  their  tools, 
—  the  oriole's  is  long  and  pointed  for  weaving, 
the  chickadee's  short  and  strong  to  serve  as  a 
pickaxe ;  but  when  the  nest  does  not  call  for  a 
tool  of  its  own  the  bill  conforms  to  the  food  habits 
of  the  bird,  —  as  the  white  man's  needs  are  met 
by  knife  and  fork,  and  the  Chinaman's  by  chop- 
sticks. So  the  bills  of  the  robin  and  bluebird, 
you  remember,  are  long,  thin,  and  slender,  —  well 
fitted  for  a  worm  diet,  —  while  the  sparrows,  who 
live  mostly  on  seeds,  have  the  short,  stout,  cone- 
shaped  finch  bill.  In  the  same  way  flycatchers' 
bills  are  specially  adapted  for  their  use,  that  of 
catching  the  insects  upon  which  they  live.  At 
the  base  there  are  long  stiff  bristles,  and  the  upper 
half  of  the  bill  hooks  over  the  lower  so  securely  at 
the  end  that  when  an  insect  is  once  entrapped  it 
has  small  chance  of  escape. 

The  phffibe  is  fond  of  building  in  a  crotch  of 
the  piazza,  on  the  beams  of  old  sheds,  and  under 
bridges,  apparently  indifferent  to  the  dust  and 
noise  of  its  position ;  but  away  from  the  immediate 
haunts  of  man  it  usually  nests  in  caves  or  rocky 
ledges,  and  sometimes  takes  possession  of  the  up- 


KINGBIRD.  83 

turned  roots  of  a  fallen  tree.  I  well  remember 
finding  a  cave  nest  when  we  were  children.  We 
let  ourselves  down  into  the  cave  by  a  crevice  in 
the  lime  rock,  and  after  groping  our  way  among 
the  loose  stones  that  made  the  floor,  and  —  as  our 
anxious  fathers  insisted  —  the  roof  of  the  cave, 
crawling  along  low  passages,  wedging  between 
narrow  walls,  and  hunting  for  stepping  stones 
across  the  dark  pools  that  reflected  the  glimmer 
of  our  candles,  we  suddenly  came  into  a  flood  of 
daylight,  —  a  crack  in  the  rocks  wide  enough  to 
make  a  dangerous  pitfall  for  the  horses  and  cows 
that  grazed  overhead,  but  chosen  by  the  pho3bes 
as  the  safest  possible  nook  for  rearing  a  brood  of 
baby  birds.  Down  the  sides  of  this  shaft  the  rain 
trickled,  keeping  the  moss  green  and  giving  the 
tiny  ferns  strength  to  cling  to  the  crannies  of  the 
rock.  On  a  ledge  just  in  reach  of  the  tallest  of 
us  the  wise  pair  of  birds  had  built  their  nest,  care- 
less of  the  dark  cavern  below,  and  happy  among 
the  moss  and  ferns. 

XXII. 
KINGBIRD;  BEE  MARTIN. 

THE  kingbird  is  noticeably  smaller  than  the 
robin,  but  is  larger  and  more  compactly  built  than 
most  of  the  flycatchers.  The  sobriety  of  his  plain 
blackish  coat  and  white  vest  are  relieved  by  a 
colored  patch  that  may  sometimes  be  espied  under 


84       BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

his  crest,  and  also  by  a  white  tip  to  his  tail,  which, 
when  spread  in  flight,  has  the  effect  of  a  white 
crescent.  He  has  a  peculiar  flight,  holding  his 
head  up  and  using  his  wings  in  a  labored  way  as 
if  he  were  swimming.  When  looking  for  his  din- 
ner he  often  flutters  obliquely  into  the  air,  display- 
ing his  shining  white  breast  and  fan-shaped  tail 
to  the  best  advantage. 

All  the  disagreeable  qualities  of  the  flycatchers 
seem  to  centre  in  this  bird.  His  note  is  a  harsh, 
scolding  twitter.  His  crown  proclaims  him  king, 
not  by  right,  but  by  might,  —  such  a  bickering 
pugilist,  such  a  domineering  autocrat  he  is.  The 
crow's  life  becomes  a  plague  when  this  tormentor 
gives  chase ;  and  the  smaller  birds  find  themselves 
driven  at  the  point  of  the  bill  from  the  fences  they 
had  considered  public  highways. 

But  whatever  may  be  the  exact  limit  of  his 
quarrelsomeness  it  stops  short  at  home ;  old  king- 
birds are  certainly  tender  guardians  of  their 
young.  I  once  watched  a  pair  in  search  of  food. 
They  flew  down  to  the  haycocks  in  the  meadow 
near  the  orchard,  sat  there  reconnoitring  for  a 
moment,  and  then  jumped  into  the  grass  to  snap 
up  the  insect  they  had  discovered.  Flying  back 
to  the  young  they  flirted  their  wings  and  tails  as 
they  dropped  the  morsel  into  the  gaping  red 
throats,  and  in  an  instant  were  off  again  for  a 
hunt  in  the  air,  or  in  another  tree.  And  so  they 
kept  hard  at  work,  looking  everywhere  till  the 


WOOD  PEWEE.  85 

voracious  appetites  of  their  infants  were  satisfied. 
DeKay  says  of  the  kingbird's  diet :  "  He  feeds 
on  berries  and  seeds,  beetles,  canker-worms,  and 
insects  of  every  description.  By  this,  and  by  his 
inveterate  hostility  to  rapacious  birds,  he  more 
than  compensates  for  the  few  domestic  bees  with 
which  he  varies  his  repast."  To  this  DeKay  adds 
the  interesting  statement :  "  Like  the  hawks  and 
owls,  he  ejects  from  his  mouth,  in  the  shape  of 
large  pellets,  all  the  indigestible  parts  of  insects 
and  berries." 

XXIII. 

WOOD  PEWEE. 

IN  size,  coloring,  and  habit  you  will  hardly  dis- 
tinguish the  wood  pewee  from  the  phosbe,  al- 
though the  former  is  somewhat  smaller.  These 
two  birds  stand  apart  from  all  the  others  we  have 
had.  The  chimney  swift  and  barn  swallow  also 
live  on  insects,  but  measure  the  difference  in  their 
methods  of  hunting.  The  swift  zigzags  through 
the  air,  picking  up  his  dinner  as  he  goes;  the 
swallow  skims  the  rivers,  and  circles  over  the 
meadows  and  through  the  sky,  without  so  much 
as  an  ungraceful  turn  of  the  wing  to  suggest  that 
he  is  dining.  But  the  phoabe  and  the  wood  pe- 
wee lie  in  wait  for  their  victims.  They  cunningly 
assume  indifference  until  the  unwary  gauzy-wing 
floats  within  range,  then  spring  on  it,  snap  it  up, 
and  fall  back  to  wait  for  another  unfortunate. 


86       BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

And  when  not  hunting,  how  silent  and  motion- 
less they  sit,  the  phoebe  on  the  ridgepole  of  a 
barn,  the  wood  pewee  on  a  twig  in  the  flickering 
sunlight  and  shade  of  the  green  woods  ;  neither 
of  them  uttering  more  than  an  occasional  note, 
and  scarcely  stirring  unless  to  look  over  their 
shoulders. 

Though  the  phoebe  and  wood  pewee  look  so 
much  alike,  hi  reality  they  are  as  much  at  odds 
as  a  farmer  and  a  poet.  Unlike  the  nest  of  the 
phffibe,  the  wood  pewee's  is  essentially  woodsy 
and  distinctive.  It  is  an  exquisite  little  structure, 
saddled  on  to  a  lichen-covered  limb.  Made  of  fine 
roots  and  delicate  stems  of  grass  and  seed  pods, 
it  is  covered  with  bits  of  lichen  or  moss  glued  on 
with  saliva,  so  that  like  the  humming-bird's  nest  it 
seems  to  be  a  knob  on  the  branch.  It  is  a  shallow 
little  nest,  and  the  four  richly  crowned  creamy 
eggs,  though  tiny  enough  in  themselves,  leave 
little  room  for  the  body  of  the  brooding  mother. 

In  temper  the  phrebe  is  so  prosaic  that  we  nat- 
urally connect  it  with  the  beams  of  barns  and 
cow  sheds ;  while  the  wood  pewee,  associated  with 
the  cool  depths  of  the  forest,  is  fitted  to  inspire 
poets,  and  to  stir  the  deepest  chords  of  human 
nature  with  its  plaintive,  far-reaching  voice. 

It  has  moods  for  all  of  ours.     Its  faint,  lisping 


pe-ee 


LEAST  FLYCATCHER.  87 

suggests  all  the  happiness  of  domestic  love  and 
peace.     At  one  moment  its  minor 


ryr 


come  to  me 

with  the  liquidity  of  a  "  U "  of  sound 
is  fraught  with  all  the  pathos  and  yearning  of  a 
desolated  human  heart.  At  another,  its  tender, 
motherly  ^9  ^  ^^ 

\  '    r       'i 

dear-ie     dear-ie       dear 

with  which  it  lulls  its  little  ones,  is  as  soothing 
to  the  perplexed  and  burdened  soul  as  the  soft 
breathing  of  the  wind  through  the  pine  needles, 
or  the  caressing  ripple  of  the  sunset-gilded  waves 
of  a  mountain  lake. 


XXIV. 

LEAST   FLYCATCHER. 

IF  you  have  been  in  the  country,  or  even  in 
one  of  our  smaller  towns  during  the  spring  and 
summer,  you  may  have  noticed  the  reiteration  of 
an  abrupt  call  of  two  notes  —  che-beck'  che-beck' 
coming  from  the  apple-trees  and  undergrowth.  If 
you  have  traced  it  you  have  discovered  a  small 
gray  bird,  in  coat  and  habit  a  miniature  of  the 
phrebe  and  wood  pewee,  jerking  not  only  his  tail 
but  his  whole  body  with  his  emphatic  call. 

This  small  bird  seems  a  piquant  satire  on  the 


88       BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

clays  of  tournament  and  joust,  when  knights 
started  out  with  leveled  lances  to  give  battle  to 
every  one  they  met.  He  is  a  fearless  little  war- 
rior, snapping  his  bill  ominously  as  he  charges, 
full  tilt,  at  his  enemy. 

Last  summer  on  passing  a  thicket  I  heard  this 
snapping,  together  with  loud  calls  of  che-beck', 
and  stopped  to  see  what  was  happening.  There, 
in  a  low  willow,  I  found  a  family  of  young  sun- 
ning themselves  while  their  mother  brought  them 
their  dinner.  It  seemed  a  most  peaceable  scene, 
but  a  picket  fence  ran  along  just  back  of  the  wil- 
low, and  I  soon  discovered  that  this  was  the  tilt 
yard.  Whenever  a  song  sparrow  or  pewee  hap- 
pened to  light  there  and  stretch  its  wings  for  a 
sun  bath,  the  fierce  little  mother  would  suddenly 
appear,  dart  at  the  unoffending  bird,  and  fairly 
throw  him  off  the  fence  with  her  abrupt  onset. 

After  unseating  her  enemy  she  would  fly  off  as 
fast  as  she  had  come,  career  about  in  the  air  till 
she  had  snapped  up  a  fly  or  miller,  dart  back, 
thrust  it  into  one  of  the  open  mouths  with  a  jab 
that  threatened  to  decapitate  the  little  one,  and 
seemed  to  mean,  "  There,  take  it  quick  if  you  've 
got  to  have  it,"  and  with  a  flirt  of  the  tail  and 
wings,  before  I  had  time  for  a  second  look,  would 
be  off  in  hot  pursuit  of  another  insect. 

I  wanted  to  see  if  she  would  be  afraid  of  me, 
and  so  crept  up  by  the  fence,  almost  under  the 
baby  birds.  Two  of  them  sat  there  side  by  side, 


RED-WINGED  BLACKBIRD.  89 

in  the  most  affectionate  manner,  nestling  down  on 
the  branch  with  their  soft  white  feathers  fluffed 
out  prettily.  They  did  not  mind  me,  and  closed 
their  eyes  as  if  the  warm  sunlight  made  them 
sleepy.  All  of  a  sudden  their  mother  flew  up  to 
one  of  them  with  a  fly,  but  was  so  startled  on  see- 
ing me  that  instead  of  giving  it  to  him  she  sprang 
up  on  top  of  his  head  and  was  off  like  a  flash, 
almost  tumbling  him  off  the  branch,  and  leaving 
him  very  much  scared  and  bewildered.  As  soon 
as  her  nerves  recovered  from  the  shock  she  came 
back  again  and  went  on  with  her  work  as  if  I  had 
not  been  there.  The  father  seemed  to  be  as  rest- 
less and  pugnacious  as  the  mother,  and,  if  appear- 
ances were  to  be  trusted,  was  quarreling  with  his 
neighbors  in  a  tree  near  by,  while  his  wife  guarded 
the  picket  and  fed  her  young. 

XXV. 

RED-WINGED   BLACKBIRD. 

THE  large  flocks  of  blackbirds  seen  coming 
north  in  the  spring  are  confusing  at  first,  but  by 
careful  observation  you  will  soon  be  able  to  dis- 
criminate between  them.  Sometimes  the  crow 
blackbird  and  the  red-wing  fly  together,  but  they 
more  commonly  go  in  separate  flocks.  At  a  dis- 
tance, the  flight  of  the  two  is  perhaps  the  most 
distinctive  feature  —  the  "  keel-tail "  steering  ap- 


00  BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

paratus  of  the  crow  blackbird  marking  him  any- 
where. Then,  though  they  both  belong  in  the 
same  pigeon-hole,  the  keel-tailed  is  a  half  larger, 
and  the  red-wing  a  trifle  smaller  than  the  robin. 
Known  more  familiarly,  the  red-wing  lacks  the 
noisy  obtrusiveness  of  his  awkward  cousin,  and 
usually  prefers  the  field  to  the  dooryard. 

Though  as  I  write  the  roads  are  being  broken 
through  the  drifted  snow  by  plough  and  kettle,  as 

1  turn  over  the  crumpled  leaves  of  the  small  note- 
book I  have  carried  on  so  many  tramps,  the  first 
faint,  penciled  notes  I  find  on  the  red-wing  take 
me  back  into  May,  and,  in  fancy,  we  are  again 
starting  down  the  hill  to  the  swampy  meadows 
where 

"  The  red-wing  flutes  his  o-ka-lee." 

Did  you  ever  see  a  meadow  full  of  cowslips  ? 
Here  is  the  true  field  of  the  cloth  of  gold.  It 
looks  as  if  father  Sun  had  crumbled  up  sunbeams 
and  scattered  the  bits  over  the  meadow  !  As  you 
sink  into  the  soft  wet  ground,  every  few  steps 
bring  you  to  a  luxuriant  clump  of  the  tender 
green  plants  lit  up  by  flower  cups  of  glistening 
gold.  Each  bunch  seems  more  beautiful  than  the 
last,  and,  like  a  child,  I  would  carry  the  whole 
field  full  of  flowers  home  in  my  arms  !  This  sun- 
garden  is  the  red-wing's  playground.  As  we  stroll 
along,  he  flies  over  our  heads  calling  out  o-ka-lee, 
and  then,  with  outstretched  wings,  soars  slowly 
down  to  the  ground,  where  he  sits  and  wags  his 
tail  as  fast  as  a  catbird. 


RED-WINGED   BLACKBIRD.  91 

As  Thoreau  says,  his  red  wing  marks  him  as 
effectually  as  a  soldier's  epaulets.  This  scarlet 
shoulder  cap  is  so  striking  against  the  bird's  black 
coat  that  the  careless  observer  does  not  notice  its 
border  of  brownish  yellow,  even  when  it  shades 
into  white,  as  it  does  in  some  of  the  western 
species.  With  Madam  Blackbird  the  contrast  is 
not  so  great,  for  she  is  not  as  pure  black  as  her 
husband,  having  brownish  streaks  that,  even  at  a 
distance,  give  her  a  duller  look ;  and  then  her 
epaulets  are  more  salmon  than  scarlet.  Still  the 
effect  is  pleasing,  and  it  is  only  a  matter  of  taste 
if  we  do  not  admire  her  as  much  as  her  spouse. 

I  was  unable  to  go  to  the  meadows  during  the 
nesting  season,  and  the  next  notes  I  find  in  my 
book  were  taken  in  the  middle  of  June.  Then 
the  young  were  hidden  in  the  grass,  and  the  old 
birds  followed  us  from  spot  to  spot,  screaming 
loudly  as  they  circled  near  us,  or  hovered  low  over 
our  heads.  Perhaps  their  cries  were  to  warn 
their  children,  for,  although  there  were  three  of 
us,  and  we  examined  carefully  all  the  places  where 
they  showed  the  most  concern,  we  succeeded  in 
scaring  up  only  one  rusty-coated  youngster. 

Two  weeks  later,  in  the  warm  days  of  July, 
the  red-wings  seemed  to  have  left  the  meadows  for 
the  trees  that  skirted  the  alder  swamp,  and  fam- 
ilies of  old  and  young  were  sitting  with  their 
cousin  grackles  in  the  willows  and  on  the  rail 
fence,  while  some  flew  up  as  I  walked  through  an 


92       BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

opening  in  the  swamp  where  the  cat-tails  stood 
guard,  and  the  long-banded  rushes  soughed  like 
wind  in  a  forest. 


XXVI. 

HAIRY   WOODPECKER. 

THE  habits  of  the  woodpecker  family  are  more 
distinctive,  perhaps,  than  those  of  any  group  of 
the  birds  we  have  been  considering,  and  the  most 
superficial  observer  cannot  fail  to  recognize  its 
members. 

Woodpeckers  —  the  very  name  proclaims  them 
unique.  The  robin  drags  his  fish-worm  from  its 
hiding  place  in  the  sod,  and  carols  his  happiness 
to  every  sunrise  and  sunset ;  the  sparrow  eats 
crumbs  in  the  dooryard  and  builds  his  nest  in  a 
sweetbriar ;  the  thrushes  turn  over  the  brown 
leaves  for  food  and  chant  their  matins  among  the 
moss  and  ferns  of  the  shadowy  forest ;  the  gold- 
finch balances  himself  on  the  pink  thistle  or  yel- 
low mullein  top,  while  he  makes  them  "  pay  toll " 
for  his  visit,  and  then  saunters  through  the  air  in 
the  abandonment  of  blue  skies  and  sunshine  ;  the 
red-wing  flutes  his  o-ka-lee  over  cat-tails  and  cow- 
slips ;  the  bobolink,  forgetting  everything  else, 
rollicks  amid  buttercups  and  daisies ;  but  the 
woodpecker  finds  his  larder  under  the  hard  bark 
of  the  trees,  and,  oblivious  to  sunrise  and  sunset, 


HAIRY   WOODPECKER.  93 

flowering  marsh  and  laughing  meadow,  clings 
close  to  the  side  of  a  stub,  as  if  the  very  sun  him- 
self moved  around  a  tree  trunk ! 

But  who  knows  how  much  these  grave  mono- 
maniacs have  discovered  that  lies  a  sealed  book 


to  all  the  world  besides  ?  Why  should  we  scorn 
them  ?  They  are  philosophers  !  They  have  the  se- 
cret of  happiness.  Any  bird  could  be  joyous  with 
plenty  of  blue  sky  and  sunshine,  and  the  poets, 
from  Chaucer  to  Wordsworth,  have  relaxed  their 
brows  at  the  sight  of  a  daisy  ;  but  what  does  the 
happy  goldfinch  know  of  the  wonders  of  tree 
trunks,  and  what  poet  could  find  inspiration  in  a 
dead  stub  on  a  bleak  November  day  ?  Jack  Frost 
sends  both  thrush  and  goldfinch  flying  south,  and 


94       BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

the  poets  shut  their  study  doors  in  his  face,  draw- 
ing their  arm-chairs  up  to  the  hearth  while  they 
rail  at  November.  But  the  wise  woodpecker 
clings  to  the  side  of  a  tree  and  fluffing  his  feathers 
about  his  toes  makes  the  woods  reverberate  with 
his  cheery  song,  —  for  it  is  a  song,  and  bears  an 
important  part  in  nature's  orchestra.  Its  rhyth- 
mical rat  tap,  tap,  tap,  tap,  not  only  beats  time 
for  the  chickadees  and  nuthatches,  but  is  a  reveille 
that  sets  all  the  brave  winter  blood  tingling  in  our 
veins. 

There  the  hardy  drummer  stands  beating  on 
the  wood  with  all  the  enjoyment  of  a  drum  major. 
How  handsome  he  looks  with  the  scarlet  cap  on 
the  back  of  his  head,  and  what  a  fine  show  the 
white  central  stripe  makes  against  the  glossy 
black  of  his  back  ! 

Who  can  say  how  much  he  has  learned  from 
the  wood  spirits  ?  What  does  he  care  for  rain  or 
blinding  storm  ?  He  can  never  lose  his  way.  No 
woodsman  need  tell  him  how  the  hemlock  branches 
tip,  or  how  to  use  a  lichen  compass. 

Do  you  say  the  birds  are  gone,  the  leaves  have 
fallen,  the  bare  branches  rattle,  rains  have  black- 
ened the  tree  trunks  ?  What  does  he  care  ?  All 
this  makes  him  rejoice  !  The  merry  chickadee 
hears  his  shrill  call  above  the  moaning  of  the 
wind  and  the  rattling  of  the  branches,  for  our 
alchemist  is  turning  to  his  lichen  workshop. 

The  sealed  book  whose  pictures  are  seen  only 


HAIRY   WOODPECKER.  95 

by  children  and  wood  fairies  opens  at  his  touch. 
The  black  unshaded  tree  trunks  turn  into  en- 
chanted lichen  palaces,  rich  with  green  and  gold 
of  every  tint.  The  "pert  fairies  and  the  dapper 
elves  "  have  left  their  magic  circles  in  the  grass, 
and  trip  lightly  around  the  soft  green  velvet  moss 
mounds  so  well  suited  for  the  throne  of  their 
queen.  Here  they  find  the  tiny  moss  spears  Lowell 
christened,  "  Arthurian  lances,"  and  quickly  arm 
themselves  for  deeds  of  fairy  valor.  Here,  too,  are 
dainty  silver  goblets  from  which  they  can  quaff 
the  crystal  globes  that  drop  one  by  one  from  the 
dark  moss  high  on  the  trees  after  rain.  And 
there  —  what  wonders  in  fern  tracery,  silver  fili- 
gree and  coral  for  the  fairy  Guinevere ! 

But  hark !  the  children  are  coming  —  and  off 
the  grave  magician  flies  to  watch  their  play  from 
behind  a  neighboring  tree  trunk.  There  they 
come,  straight  to  his  workshop,  and  laugh  in  glee 
at  the  white  chips  he  has  scattered  on  the  ground. 

They  are  in  league  with  the  fairies,  too,  and 
cast  magic  spells  over  all  they  see.  First  they  spy 
the  upturned  roots  of  a  fallen  tree.  It  is  a  moun- 
tain! And  up  they  clamber,  to  overlook  their 
little  world.  And  that  pool  left  by  the  fall  rains. 
Ha !  It  is  a  lake  I  And  away  they  go,  to  cross 
it  bravely  on  a  bridge  of  quaking  moss. 

As  they  pass  under  the  shadow  of  a  giant  hem- 
lock and  pick  up  the  cones  for  playthings,  they 
catch  sight  of  the  pile  of  dark  red  sawdust  at  the 


96       BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

foot  of  the  tree  and  stand  open-mouthed  while  the 
oldest  child  tells  of  a  long  ant  procession  she  saw 
there  when  each  tiny  worker  came  to  the  door  to 
drop  its  borings  from  its  jaws.  How  big  their 
eyes  get  at  the  story !  If  the  woodpecker  could 
only  give  his  cousin  the  yellow  hammer's  tragic 
sequel  to  it ! 

But  soon  they  have  found  a  new  delight.  A 
stem  of  basswood  seeds  whirls  through  the  air  to 
their  feet.  They  all  scramble  for  it.  What  a 
pity  they  have  no  string !  The  last  stem  they 
found  was  a  kite  and  a  spinning  air-top  for  a  day's 
play.  But  this  —  never  mind  —  there  it  goes  up 
in  the  air  dancing  and  whirling  like  a  gay  young 
fairy  treading  the  mazes  with  the  wind. 

"  Just  see  this  piece  of  moss  !  How  pretty  !  " 
And  so  they  go  through  the  woods,  till  the  brown 
beech  leaves  shake  with  their  laughter,  and  the 
gray  squirrels  look  out  of  their  oriel  tree  trunk 
windows  to  see  who  goes  by,  and  the  absorbed, 
magician  —  who  can  tell  how  much  fun  he  steals 
from  his  lofty  observation  post  to  make  him  con- 
tent with  his  stub  ! 

Why  shoidd  he  fly  south  when  every  day  brings 
him  some  secret  of  the  woods,  or  some  scene  like 
this  that  his  philosopher's  stone  can  turn  to  happi- 
ness ?  Let  us  proclaim  him  the  sage  of  the  birds ! 

If  he  could  speak !  The  children  would  gather 
about  him  for  tales  of  the  woodsprites  ;  the  stu- 
dent of  trees  would  learn  facts  and  figures  enough 


HAIRY  WOODPECKER.  97 

to  store  a  book  ;  and  the  mechanic  !  Just  watch 
the  dexterous  bird  as  he  works  ! 

A  master  of  his  trade,  he  has  various  methods. 
One  day  in  September  he  flew  past  me  with  a 
loud  scream,  and  when  I  came  up  to  him  was 
hard  at  excavating.  His  claws  were  fast  in  the 
bark  on  the  edge  of  the  hole,  and  he  seemed  to  be 
half  clinging  to  it,  half  lying  against  it.  His  stiff 
tail  quills  helped  to  brace  him  against  the  tree, 
and  he  drilled  straight  down,  making  the  bark  fly 
with  his  rapid  strokes.  When  the  hole  did  not 
clear  itself  with  his  blows,  he  would  give  a  quick 
scrape  with  his  bill  and  drill  away  again.  Sud- 
denly he  stopped,  picked  up  something,  and  flew 
up  on  a  branch  with  it.  He  had  found  what  he 
was  after.  And  what  a  relish  it  proved !  I  could 
almost  see  him  holding  it  011  his  tongue. 

Another  day  in  November  he  had  to  work 
harder  for  his  breakfast,  and  perhaps  it  was  for- 
tunate. The  night  before  there  had  been  a  sharp 
snowstorm  from  the  north,  so  that  in  passing 
through  the  woods  all  the  trees  and  undergrowth 
on  the  south  of  me  were  pure  white,  while  on  the 
opposite  side  the  gray  trees  with  all  their  confu- 
sion of  branches,  twigs,  and  noble  trunks  stood  out 
in  bold  relief.  The  snow  that  had  fallen  made  it 
rather  cold  standing  still,  and  I  would  have  been 
glad  to  do  part  of  Mr.  Hairy's  work  myself.  But 
he  needed  no  help.  He  marched  up  the  side  of 
the  stub,  tapping  as  he  went,  and  when  his  bill 


98       BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

gave  back  the  sound  for  which  he  had  been  listen- 
ing, he  began  work  without  ado.  This  bark  must 
have  been  harder  or  thicker  than  the  other,  for 
instead  of  boring  straight  through,  he  loosened  it 
by  drilling,  first  from  one  side  and  then  from  the 
other.  When  he  could  not  get  it  off  in  this  way, 
he  went  above,  and  below,  to  try  to  start  it,  so 
that,  before  he  found  his  worm  he  had  stripped 
off  pieces  of  bark  several  inches  long  and  fully 
two  across.  He  was  so  much  engrossed  that  I 
came  to  the  very  foot  of  the  stub  without  disturb- 
ing him. 

Indeed,  woodpeckers  are  not  at  all  shy  here 
but  work  as  unconcernedly  by  the  side  of  the 
house  as  anywhere  else.  Once  I  was  attracted  by 
the  cries  of  a  hairy,  and  creeping  up  discovered  a 
mother  feeding  her  half-grown  baby.  She  flew 
off  when  she  saw  me,  probably  warning  the  little 
fellow  to  keep  still,  for  he  stayed  where  she  left 
him  for  five  or  ten  minutes  as  if  pinioned  to  the 
branch,  crouching  close,  and  hardly  daring  to  stir 
even  his  head.  Then,  as  she  did  not  come  back, 
and  he  saw  no  reason  to  be  afraid  of  me,  he  flew 
off  independently  to  another  limb,  and  marched 
up  the  side  arching  his  neck  and  bowing  his  head 
as  much  as  to  say,  "  Just  see  how  well  I  walk ! ' 


DOWNY  WOODPECKER.  99 

XXVII. 

DOWNY   WOODPECKER. 

THE  downy  looks  so  much  like  the  hairy  that  it 
would  be  easy  to  confound  them  if  it  were  not  for 
the  difference  in  size.  The  downy  is  fully  two 
inches  shorter  than  the  hairy.  As  you  see  him 
on  a  tree  at  a  distance,  the  white  stripe  on  his 
back  is  bounded  by  black,  or  as  Thoreau  expresses 
it,  "  his  cassock  is  open  behind,  showing  his  white 
robe."  Above  this  stripe  is  a  large  check  of  black 
and  white,  and  below  on  a  line  with  the  tips  of 
his  wings  seems  to  be  a  fine  black  and  white 
check,  while,  if  he  is  an  adult  male,  a  scarlet 
patch  on  the  back  of  his  head  sets  off  his  black 
and  white  dress. 

Seen  only  a  rod  away,  as  I  see  him  through  the 
window  in  winter,  clinging  to  a  tree,  and  picking 
at  the  suet  hung  out  for  him,  the  white  central 
stripe  of  his  back  is  marked  off  above  by  a  black 
line  which  goes  across  to  meet  the  black  of  his 
shoulders.  From  the  middle  of  this  and  at  right 
angle  to  it,  another  black  line  goes  straight  up 
towards  his  head,  so  carrying  on  the  line  of  the 
white  stripe,  and  forming  the  dividing  line  of  the 
two  white  blocks.  This,  again,  meets  the  point 
of  a  black  V,  so  broad  as  to  be  almost  a  straight 
line.  On  this  V  lies  the  red  patch  of  the  back 
of  his  head.  Over  his  eye  is  a  white  line  that  ex- 


100    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

tends  back  to  meet  the  red  patch.  What  at  a 
distance  looked  like  fine  checking  at  the  base  of 
his  wings  proves  to  be  white  lining  across  the 
black. 

The  downy  comes  about  us  here  with  the  same 
familiarity  as  the  hairy,  and  it  was  only  a  few 
weeks  ago  that  the  cook  brought  me  one  she 
found  imprisoned  between  the  sashes  of  her  win- 
dow. He  was  scared,  poor  little  fellow,  and  wrig- 
gled excitedly,  trying  to  force  my  hand  open. 
When  I  had  taken  a  look  at  his  pretty  brown 
eyes  I  carried  him  to  the  front  door,  and  off  he 
flew  to  the  nearest  tree  where  he  began  pecking 
at  the  bark  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

XXVIII. 

WHITE-BELLIED  NUTHATCH  ;   DEVIL-DOWN    HEAD. 

CROSSBILLS,  snow  buntings,  blue  jays,  pine 
finches,  pine  grosbeaks,  goldfinches,  and  some- 
times other  birds  visit  us'  here  at  irregular  inter- 
vals during  -che  winter,  but  there  are  four  little 
friends  that  never  desert  us,  no  matter  how  long 
the  winter  lasts.  They  form  a  novel  quartette, 
for  the  chickadee  whistles  the  air,  the  nuthatch 
sings  his  meagre  alto  through  his  nose,  and  the 
two  woodpeckers  —  the  hairy  and  downy  —  beat 
their  drums  as  if  determined  to  drown  the  other 
parts.  But  they  are  a  merry  band,  with  all  their 


WHITE-BELLIED  NUTHATCH.  101 

oddities,  and  wander  about  giving  concerts  wher- 
ever they  go,  till  the  woods  are  alive  again,  and 
we  forget  that  we  have  ever  missed  the  summer 
birds. 

When  the  drums  get  too  much  absorbed  in 
their  tree  trunks,  the  alto  and  air  go  serenading 
by  themselves,  and  who  knows  what  gossip  they 
indulge  in  about  the  grave  magicians'  day  dreams, 
or  how  gayly  they  swear  to  stand  by  each  other 
and  never  be  put  down  by  these  drums !  They 
are  old  chums,  and  work  together  as  happily  as 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Spratt,  the  chickadee  whistling  his 
merry  chick-a-dee-dee,  dee,  dee  as  he  clings  to  a 
twig  in  the  tree  top,  and  the  nuthatch  answering 
back  with  a  jolly  little  yank,  yank,  yank,  as  he 
hangs,  head  down,  on  the  side  of  a  tree  trunk. 
What  a  comic  figure  he  makes  there  ! 

Trying  to  get  a  view  of  you,  he  throws  his  head 
back  and  stretches  himself  away  from  the  tree  till 
you  wonder  he  does  not  fall  off.  His  black  cap 
and  slate-blue  coat  are  almost  hidden,  he  raises 
his  white  throat  and  breast  up  so  high. 

"  Devil-down-head  "  he  is  called  from  this  habit 
of  walking  down  the  trees,  since  instead  of  walk- 
ing straight  down  backwards,  as  the  woodpeck- 
ers do,  he  prefers  to  obey  the  old  adage  and 
"  follow  his  nose."  A  lady  forgetting  his  name 
once  aptly  described  him  to  me  as  "  that  little  up- 
side-down bird,"  for  he  will  run  along  the  under 
side  of  a  branch  with  as  much  coolness  as  a  fly 
would  cross  the  ceiling. 


102    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

One  of  his  popular  names  is  "sapsueker,"  for 
our  nuthatch  has  a  sweet  tooth,  and  when  the 
farmers  tap  the  trees  in  spring  he  "happens 
round  "  at  the  sugar  bush  to  see  what  sort  of  ma- 
ple syrup  they  are  to  have.  He  tests  it  well,  tak- 
ing a  sip  at  "  the  calf  "  where  it  oozes  out  from 


the  gashing  of  the  axe,  tasting  it  as  it  dries  along 
the  spile,  and  finally  on  the  run  of  the  buckets. 

But  his  most  interesting  name  is  —  nuthatch  ! 
How  does  he  come  by  it  ?  That  seems  a  riddle. 
Some  cold  November  day  put  on  a  pair  of  thick 
boots  and  go  to  visit  the  beeches.  There  in  their 
tops  are  the  nuthatches,  for  they  have  deserted 
the  tree  trunks  for  a  frolic.  They  are  beechnut- 
ting  \  A  nd  that  with  as  much  zest  as  a  party  of 


WHITE-BELLIED  NUTHATCH.  103 

school-children  starting  out  with  baskets  and  pails 
on  a  holiday.  Watch  them  now !  What  clumsy 
work  they  make  of  it,  trying  to  cling  to  the 
beechnut  burr  and  get  the  nuts  out  at  the  same 
time.  It 's  a  pity  the  chickadee  can't  give  them 
a  few  lessons !  They  might  better  have  kept  to 
their  tree  trunks.  But  they  persist,  and  after 
tumbling  off  from  several  burrs,  finally  snatch 
out  a  nut  and  fly  off  with  it  as  calmly  as  if  they 
had  been  dancing  about  among  the  twigs  all  their 
days.  Away  they  go  till  they  come  to  a  maple  or 
some  other  rough-barked  tree,  when  they  stick 
the  nut  in  between  the  ridges  of  the  bark,  ham- 
mer it  down,  and  then,  when  it  is  so  tightly 
wedged  that  the  slippery  shell  cannot  get  away 
from  them,  by  a  few  sharp  blows  they  hatch  the 
nut  from  the  tree  !  Through  my  glass  I  watched 
a  number  of  them  this  fall,  and  they  all  worked 
in  about  the  same  way,  though  some  of  them 
wedged  their  nuts  far  into  cracks  or  holes  in  the 
body  of  the  tree,  instead  of  in  the  bark.  One  of 
them  pounded  so  hard  he  spread  his  tail  and  al- 
most upset  himself.  The  fun  was  so  great  a 
downy  woodpecker  tried  it,  and  of  all  the  big 
school-boys !  The  excitement  seemed  to  turn  his 
head,  and  he  attacked  a  beechnut  burr  as  if  he 
would  close  with  it  in  mortal  combat ! 

Though  without  any  real  song,  the  nuthatch 
has  a  delightful  variety  of  notes.  In  May  his 
nasal  kenk-a,  henk-a,  henk-a,  comes  through  the 


104    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

soft  green  woods  as  a  peculiarly  peaceful  caress- 
ing note,  and  his  soft  yang,  yang,  yang  is  full  of 
woodsy  suggestions.  In  the  last  of  June  I  noted 
the  sweet  yah-ha  of  the  nuthatch,  the  same  yang, 
yang,  yang,  and  his  nearest  approach  to  a  song, 
the  rapid  yah-ha,  ha-ha-ha-ha.  In  August  and 
September  the  nasal  yank  is  sometimes  run  into 
an  accelerated  half  song.  Thoreau  gives  the  or- 
dinary winter  note  as  quah,  quah,  and  while  that 
expresses  the  mellowness  of  the  note  on  some 
days  better  than  yank,  they  are  both  descriptive. 
But  though  certain  notes  may  predominate  in 
given  months,  on  a  cold  January  morning  I  have 
heard  from  a  flock  of  nuthatches  every  note  that 
I  had  ever  heard  before  at  any  time  of  the  year. 
Like  the  other  members  of  the  quartette,  the  nut- 
hatch nests  in  holes  in  trees  or  stumps  while  its 
lightly  spotted  eggs,  six  or  eight  in  number,  are 
laid  on  a  soft,  felty  lining. 

I  am  often  surprised  by  discovering  the  nut- 
hatch at  work  in  places  where  I  despair  of  finding 
any  birds.  One  day  in  December  the  snow-cov- 
ered woods  seemed  to  have  fallen  into  the  silent 
slumber  of  a  child.  Not  a  breath  came  to  blow 
the  white  cap  from  the  vireo's  nest,  or  scatter  the 
heaped-up  snow  that  rested  like  foam  on  the  slen- 
der twigs.  The  snow  that  had  drifted  against  the 
side  of  the  tree  trunks  clung  as  it  had  fallen.  In 
silence  the  branches  arched  under  their  freight ; 
the  rich  ochraceous  beech  leaves  hung  in  masses 
under  the  snow  —  not  a  leaf  rustled. 


COWBIRD.  105 

Overhead  the  twigs,  snow-outlined,  made  exqui- 
site filigree  against  the  pale  blue  sky.  But  sud- 
denly, as  the  woods  seemed  to  be  holding  its  breath, 
the  yank  of  the  nuthatch  came  first  from  one  tree 
and  then  another.  A  family  of  them  were  looking 
for  their  dinner  in  the  white  forest.  If  the  snow 
covered  the  upper  side  of  a  branch,  they  ran  along 
upside-down  on  the  under  side ;  if  the  south  side 
of  a  tree  trunk  was  white,  they  walked,  head  down, 
on  the  north  side ;  and  there,  too,  was  the  little 
drummer  —  a  downy  woodpecker,  flickering  from 
tree  to  tree  —  even  here,  the  merry  band  was  find- 
ing a  place  for  itself  in  nature.  As  I  passed  on, 
fainter  and  fainter  came  the  note  of  the  nuthatch. 
I  looked  back  through  the  woods ;  the  blue  sky 
was  veiled  by  snow  clouds,  but  behind  them  shone 
the  southern  sun,  pervading  them  with  that  won- 
drous radiance  of  white  light  that  only  a  winter 
sky  can  show. 

XXIX. 

COWBIRD. 

THE  cowbird  is  one  of  the  smaller  blackbirds. 
The  male  has  an  iridescent  body  and  purplish- 
brown  head  and  neck.  The  female  has  no  bril- 
liant coloring,  and  is  decidedly  dingy  in  appear- 
ance. 

About  the  size  of  the  kingbird,  the  cowbird  im- 


106    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

poses  upon  its  brothers  in  the  same  systematic 
manner.  It  employs  subtle  measures,  however, 
and  the  result  of  its  work  is  much  worse  than  that 
of  the  kingbird.  Audubon  says,  "  Like  some  un- 
natural parents  of  our  own  race,  it  sends  out  its 
progeny  to  be  nursed."  Coues  says  of  its  habits : 
"  Like  the  European  cuckoo,  it  builds  no  nest, 
laying  its  eggs  by  stealth  in  the  nests  of  various 
other  birds,  especially  warblers,  vireos,  and  spar- 
rows ;  and  it  appears  to  constitute,  furthermore, 
a  remarkable  exception  to  the  rule  of  conjugal 
affection  and  fidelity  among  birds.  A  wonderful 
provision  for  the  perpetuation  of  the  species  is 
seen  in  its  instinctive  selection  of  smaller  birds  as 
the  foster-parents  of  its  offspring ;  for  the  larger 
egg  receives  the  greater  share  of  warmth  during 
incubation,  and  the  lustier  young  cowbird  asserts 
its  precedence  in  the  nest ;  while  the  foster-birds, 
however  reluctant  to  incubate  the  strange  egg 
(their  devices  to  avoid  the  duty  are  sometimes 
astonishing),  become  assiduous  in  their  care  of 
the  foundling,  even  to  the  neglect  of  their  own 
young.  The  cowbird's  egg  is  said  to  hatch  sooner 
than  that  of  most  birds ;  this  would  obviously  con- 
fer additional  advantage." 

The  birds  upon  which  the  cowbird  imposes 
sometimes  build  a  second  floor  to  their  houses 
when  they  find  the  big  stranger  egg  in  their 
home,  and  a  case  is  given  where  even  a  third  story 
was  built.  The  cowbird  spends  a  large  share  of 


COWBIRD.  107 

his  time  among  the  cattle  in  the  pastures,  so  earn- 
ing his  name. 

With  the  cowbird,  our  pigeon-hole  for  "  black- 
birds, orioles,  etc.,"  No.  3,  is  as  full  as  we  shall 
make  it.  There  are  seven  birds  in  it  —  the  bobo- 
link, cowbird,  red-winged  blackbird,  meadow-lark, 
crow  blackbird,  and  oriole.  Comparing  them  for 
a  moment  with  the  lower  orders  of  birds  we  put 
away  in  the  drawer  —  the  chimney  swift,  par- 
tridge, humming-bird,  cuckoo,  woodpeckers,  and 
kingfisher ;  and  then  again  with  the  other  families 
of  perching  birds  we  have  had  —  the  flycatchers 
of  No.  1,  the  finches  and  sparrows  of  No.  4,  the 
barn  swallow  from  No.  6,  and  the  chickadee  and 
nuthatch  from  the  "  nuthatches  and  tits  "  of  No. 
12,  we  shall  see  how  clearly  they  stand  out  as  a 
group. 

Perhaps  it  will  be  well  to  summarize  their  com- 
mon characteristics. 

BLACKBIRDS,  ORIOLES,  etc.     (Pigeon-hole  No.  3.) 

Birds  that  live  in  the  meadows. 

Meadow-lark. 

Bobolink. 

Birds  with  much  black  in  plumage.  (Compare 
with  sparrows.) 

Crow  blackbird. 

Red-winged  blackbird. 

Cowbird. 

Bobolink. 

Oriole. 


108    BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

Birds  whose  general  build  is  compact  but  slen- 
der, and  by  whom  the  claw  is  used  for  holding 
food.  (Compare  with  robin  and  sparrows.) 

Oriole. 

Crow  blackbird. 

Red-winged  blackbird. 

Birds  in  which  the  females  are  smaller  than  the 
males. 

Red-winged  blackbird. 

Cowbird. 

Meadow-lark. 

Crow  blackbird. 

Birds  with  long  straight  bills.  (Compare  with 
swift,  chickadee,  finches,  and  sparrows.) 

Crow  blackbird. 

Red-winged  blackbird. 

Meadow-lark. 

Oriole. 

Birds  that  walk  instead  of  hopping.  (Compare 
with  flycatchers,  sparrows,  etc.) 

Crow  blackbird. 

Red-winged  blackbird. 

Cowbird. 

Meadow-lark. 


WHITE-THROATED  SPARROW.  109 

XXX. 

WHITE-THROATED   SPARROW. 

THOUGH  the  white-throats  nest  in  the  Adiron- 
dacks  and  other  dense  northern  forest  regions,  they 
come  to  us  for  only  about  a  month  in  spring  and 
fall.  In  Northampton,  Massachusetts,  I  have 
heard  their  clear  spring  whistles,  — 

0(p0pp0p0?m 

UFUUPUUF£ 

I  -  I  -  pea  -  bod  -  dy,  pea-bod  -  dy,  pea  -  bod  -  dy 

r  r  , 

I         0        0        •        r        0        0 
U      p      >      £      fc      U 

I   .   i  .   i  .   pea  -  bod  -  dy,     pea  -  bod  -  dy 

coming  from  the  wooded  bank  of  Mill  River,  from 
the  low  bushes  of  the  fields,  and  the  undergrowth 
of  the  woods  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city ;  and  in 
the  fall  have  seen  them  in  front  of  the  houses 
scratching  among  the  leaves  under  the  evergreens 
of  Eound  Hill. 

The  first  intimation  I  had  of  their  return  this 
fall  was  in  the  clearing  one  day,  when  I  found  two 
of  them  sitting  atilt  of  a  blackberry  bush  in  front 
of  me.  As  one  of  them  sat  facing  me  and  the 
other  had  his  back  to  me  and  only  turned  to  look 
over  his  shoulder,  I  had  a  chance  to  note  not  only 
the  white  chin  and  ash-gray  breast  but  the  black 
striped  chestnut  back  and  the  pretty  five-striped 
crown,  whose  central  grayish  line  is  enclosed  by 


110    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

two  black  lines,  bounded  in  turn  by  the  whitish 
line  over  the  eyes.  While  I  was  watching  them 
their  attention  was  diverted  by  the  barking  of  a 
gray  squirrel  in  the  woods,  but  they  seemed  to 
listen  to  him  as  they  had  me,  with  quiet  interest, 
little  more. 

A  large  flock  of  them  stayed  here  for  about  a 
month,  keeping  always  near  the  same  spots,  —  a 
brush  heap,  an  old  dead  tree-top,  by  which  water 
and  grain  were  kept  for  them,  and  a  raspberry 
patch  a  few  rods  away.  From  the  raspberry  patch 
would  come  their  quarrying  note  that  Mr.  Bick- 
nell  speaks  of,  the  peculiar  chelink  that  gives  the 
sound  of  a  chisel  slipping  on  stone,  and  which, 
when  coming  from  a  flock  at  a  little  distance,  gives 
the  effect  of  a  quarry  full  of  stone  cutters.  As 
I  went  through  the  patch  they  would  fly  up  from 
among  the  bushes,  some  uttering  a  little  surprised 
chree,  some  calling  cheep  as  they  flew  noisily  by, 
while  others  clung,  crouching  close,  to  the  side  of 
a  stem,  looking  back  to  see  who  I  was. 

The  small  slate-colored  snowbirds,  the  j  uncos, 
were  with  the  sparrows  more  than  any  other  birds  ; 
but  the  oven-bird,  whose  premises  they  had  invaded, 
looked  down  on  them  with  mild  curiosity  until  it 
was  time  for  her  to  go  south ;  and  later,  a  family 
of  chewinks  chased  them  off  the  fence  by  way  of 
turnabout  justice,  though  you  are  tempted  to  feel 
that  the  white-throats  need  little  punishment. 
They  have  none  of  the  petulance  or  arbitrariness 


WHITE-THROATED  SPARROW.  Ill 

of  chippy,  but  with  the  sweet  temper  of  the  song 
sparrow,  these  larger  cousins  have  a  thoughtful 
bearing  that  harmonizes  with  their  spring  song, 
which  is  tinged  with  sadness,  like  the  melodious 
call  of  the  bluebird. 

One  morning  in  September,  not  finding  the 
white-throats  in  the  raspberry-patch,  I  went  on  to 
a  circular  opening  near  the  edge  of  the  woods  just 
south  of  it.  The  sunlight  streaming  down  through 
the  half  Indian  summer  haze  and  melting  into  the 
soft  lights  and  shadows  of  the  surrounding  green 
woods,  gave  a  mystic  loveliness  to  the  spot.  A 
delicate  white  birch  stretched  up,  sunning  itself ; 
a  maple  trunk  stood  in  shadow  with  one  spray  of 
a  drooping  branch  dipped  in  the  emerald  sun  dye ; 
the  red  autumn  leaves  lodged  here  and  there 
seemed  to  be  shaken  out  of  sight  by  the  green 
bushes,  but  a  breath  of  fresh  wind  murmured  that 
summer  was  past  and  —  was  it  a  footstep  ?  No ! 
It  was  an  army  of  little  autumn  pedestrians !  A 
happy  host  of  white-throated  sparrows,  hopping 
about  on  the  ground  under  the  bushes.  Busy  and 
fearless,  their  footsteps  pattered  on  the  leaves,  and 
they  sometimes  came  within  two  or  three  feet  of 
me  without  taking  fright.  A  chipmunk  scudded 
through  the  bushes  after  his  playfellow  without 
startling  them.  From  every  side  came  the  happy 
chee-ree ;  a  cobweb  shimmered  in  the  sunlight. 
What  if  fall  were,  coming  ?  It  brought  these  little 
friends  of  ours ! 


112    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

XXXI. 

CEDAR-BIRD;   WAXWING. 

THE  cedar-birds  go  into  pigeon-hole  No.  7,  the 
place  for  "the  waxwings,"  etc.,  and  when  you 
have  examined  them  you  will  feel  that  they  de- 
serve a  cubby-hole  of  their  own.  In  spring  and 
fall  they  are  found  in  flocks,  often  of  five  or  seven, 
but  you  will  be  likely  to  overlook  them  if  you  are 
not  consciously  watching  the  birds.  They  are 
rather  shy,  and  are  slender  birds,  a  little  smaller 
than  a  robin,  with  inconspicuous  coloring,  and, 
moreover,  have  no  song  to  attract  your  attention, 

—  nothing  but  a  lisping  note  and  a  faint  whis- 
tle that  sounds  as  if  they  were  drawing  in  their 
breath.      But  they  are  about,  and  in  June  will 
probably  nest   in   the   nearest  orchard,  and  eat 
canker-worms  from  the  village  trees. 

When  you  find  them  you  will  be  repaid  for  your 
trouble.  By  the  law  of  compensation,  discussed 
by  Darwin  under  the  head  of  Natural  Selection, 
their  beauty  makes  up  for  their  lack  of  voice, 
while,  in  the  c"ase  of  the  sparrows,  plainness  is 
compensated  by  musical  power. 

The  waxwing's  plumage  is  a  soft  fawn  tone,  lit 
up  by  touches  of  color.  Its  crest  is  fawn,  but  it 
has  a  black  chin  and  a  black  stripe  through  the 
eye,  a  yellow  band  across  the  end  of  its  tail,  and, 

—  most  unique  external  feature  of  all,  which  ex- 


CEDAR-BIRD.  113 

plains  the  name  waxwing  —  a  tipping  of  a  bright 
red  horny  substance  that  looks  like  sealing-wax 
on  the  shorter  feathers  of  its  wings,  and  some- 
times the  feathers  of  the  tail.  How  prettily  the 
tipping  lights  up  its  dainty  coat !  It  gives  the 
final  touches  to  an  artistic  costume.  But  what 
impresses  you  most  at  first  sight  is  the  waxwing's 
crest,  and  the  fact  that,  unlike  the  fluffy  chicka- 
dee, every  delicately  tinted  feather  of  its  shapely 
body  is  smoothed  into  place  with  exquisite  care. 
The  waxwings  are  the  elite  of  bird  circles,  and 
seem  fit  companions  for  the  proud  oriole  and  the 
graceful  catbird.  But  how  modest  and  retiring 
they  seem  as  they  hide  away  among  the  leaves, 
silent  and  self-contained,  while  the  handsome  oriole 
flaunts  his  scarlet  banner  through  the  air,  blowing 
a  bugle-note  for  all  the  world  to  hear ;  and  the 
gay  Bohemian  catbird  chuckles  at  his  own  jokes, 
and  tells  the  lilacs  all  he  knows  as  he  idles  in  the 
sunshine. 

Nuttall  relates  a  curious  instance  of  politeness 
which  he  noticed  among  cedar-birds.  One,  hav- 
ing caught  an  insect,  gave  it  to  his  neighbor,  who 
took  it  to  give  to  another,  he  in  turn  passing  it  on, 
till  it  had  gone  the  rounds  of  the  group  before  it 
was  devoured ! 

The  gentle  affectionate  nature  of  the  cedar-bird 
has  often  been  commented  upon,  and  naturalists 
have  called  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  pretty 
little  birds  have  even  adopted  the  human  symbol 


114     BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

of  tenderness,  and  are  often  seen  kissing  each 
other.  Gumpei  Kuwada,  the  young  Japanese  ob- 
server at  Northampton,  Massachusetts,  has  sent 
me  some  interesting  notes  on  the  subject.  He 
says :  "  On  the  7th  of  May  I  saw  a  very  large 
flock  of  cedar-birds,  Ampelis  cedrorum.  Two  of 
these  were  seated  on  a  branch  a  little  distance 
apart,  and  one  hopped  toward  the  other  and  bent 
down  his  head  and  touched  the  bill  of  the  other 
with  his  own  bill,  then  went  back  to  his  place ; 
then  the  second  bird  went  to  the  first  bird  and 
went  through  the  same  motions  and  returned  to 
his  place;  then  the  first  bird  repeated  the  per- 
formance, and  so  these  two  cedar-birds  went  alter- 
nately and  touched  each  other's  bills  for  about 
five  minutes.  The  action  of  the  two  birds  was  so 
funny  that  I  could  not  call  it  anything  else  but 
that  they  fell  in  love  and  kissed  each  other.  It 
could  not  possibly  have  been  a  mother  feeding 
her  young,  because  it  was  so  early  in  the  season, 
and  they  were  in  a  flock  and  had  nothing  in  their 
bills,  and  their  bills  were  shut." 

The  cedar -birds  are  not  only  affectionate  in 
their  own  families,  but  sometimes  show  the  most 
human  compassion  to  stranger  birds.  Mrs. 
Martha  D.  Jones,  of  Northampton,  writes  me  of 
a  touching  instance  of  their  friendliness.  She 
says  :  "  Last  summer  my  sister  watched  for  weeks 
a  robin's  nest  in  an  apple-tree  some  ten  feet  from 
her  chamber  window.  She  could  see  into  the  nest, 


CHE  WINK.  115 

and  day  by  day  watched  the  maturing  of  love  and 
hope  and  faith  till  the  little  ones  were  fledged. 
Then  came  a  sad  day  when  the  mother  bird  was 
killed,  and  again  a  sadder  still  when  the  sole  pro- 
vider of  the  hungry  brood  was  taken.  Who 
should  provide  for  the  four  little  gaping  mouths  ? 
Must  the  little  ones  perish  also?  Their  pitiful 
cries  could  be  heard  in  the  house,  and  my  sister 
tried  to  devise  some  way  to  reach  the  nest  and 
relieve  them.  When  lo!  she  was  anticipated. 
The  young  had  been  heard,  and  a  pitiful  heart 
had  responded.  ...  A  cedar -bird  came  before 
the  day  closed  and  adopted  them,  fed  them  con- 
stantly for  more  than  a  week;  brought  them 
safely  from  the  nest  and  taught  them  to  fly  as 
though  they  had  been  her  own."  What  an  ex- 
ample these  birds  could  set  the  kingbird  and 
least  flycatcher ! 

XXXII. 

CHEWINK  ;    TOWHEE. 

THE  sight  of  a  chewink,  even  in  migration,  is 
a  rare  pleasure  in  the  Adirondack  region.  One 
October  morning  when  the  orchard  trees  and 
evergreens  are  astir  with  sparrows,  a  big  umber- 
brown  bird  comes  out  from  the  low  branches  of  a 
Norway  spruce,  and,  showing  white  tail  feathers 
as  she  flies,  hides  away  among  the  low  spreading 


116     BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

brandies  of  a  white  birch.  Just  as  I  begin  to 
question  my  eyes,  she  flies  into  a  plum-tree  and  I 
recognize  the  small  brown  head,  the  short  finch 
bill,  —  for  she  belongs  in  pigeon-hole  No.  4,  —  and 
the  white  triangular  corners  of  the  chewink  tail. 


But  on  the  instant  she  spies  me,  and  away  she  flies, 
low  over  the  ground  to  —  I  never  know  where. 
Had  she  clapped  on  a  magic  cap  she  could  not 
have  vanished  more  completely.  I  waste  the  best 
part  of  the  morning  hunting  for  her,  and  the  next 
day  begin  the  search  again. 

Going  along  a  narrow  trail  that  serves  as  snow- 
shoe  path  in  winter,  in  passing  a  dead  tree  top  I 
start  the  usual  number  of  white-throats,  and  as  I 
turn  the  corner  of  the  fence  into  the  clearing — be- 
hold !  —  right  before  me,  clinging  to  the  side  of  a 


CHE  WINK.  117 

raspberry  stem  and  looking  at  me  over  his  shoul- 
der, is  a  handsome  male  chewink.  What  a  beauty ! 
His  back  is  black  and  his  sides  match  the  crisp 
curled  beech  leaves  that  color  the  wood  paths  in 
fall.  He  whisks  his  tail  back  and  forth,  and  opens 
and  shuts  it  as  a  nervous  beauty  toys  with  her  fan, 
so  disclosing  the  white  feathers  that  border  it  and 
the  white  triangles  on  the  corners.  But  before  I 
can  put  pencil  to  note-book  he  has  disappeared.  I 
spy  about  in  all  directions,  get  down  on  my  knees 
to  peer  through  the  raspberry  bushes,  and  tiptoe 
along,  ogling  all  the  white-throats  that  light  on  the 
fence  —  but  never  a  glimpse  do  I  get  of  him. 

Then  suddenly  he  appears  on  top  of  a  fence 
facing  me ;  but  as  I  look  down  he  hops  among 
the  ferns,  and  as  I  screen  myself  behind  a  tree 
for  a  better  view  when  he  shall  fly  up  again,  a  low 
cheree-ah-ree  reaches  me,  and  I  see  him  on  the 
fence  several  rods  away!  He  looks  up  to  the 
trees,  raising  and  lowering  his  cap,  with  the  odd 
effect  of  rounding  or  flattening  his  head,  and  then, 
deciding  in  favor  of  brambles,  jumps  off  into  the 
bushes  again. 

And  so  I  follow  him  for  three  or  four  hours, 
trying  every  device  to  keep  near  without  letting 
him  take  fright,  stepping  on  moss  or  walking 
along  the  trunks  of  fallen  trees  to  avoid  the  crack- 
ling sound  of  the  leaves,  stopping  to  listen  for  his 
soft  cheree-ah-ree^  getting  down  to  look  through 
the  bare  stems  of  the  bushes  for  him,  and,  if  I  see 


118     BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

him  as  he  scratches  among  the  leaves,  crouch 
motionless  close  to  the  ground  till  I  am  as  full  of 
cramps  as  Caliban.  Once,  seeing  him  on  the 
fence,  I  stand  close  to  a  tree  and  take  an  old  dry 
golden-rod  —  curious  freak  it  is  too,  with  axillary 
flowers  all  the  way  up  the  stem  —  and  hang  it 
from  a  twig  in  front  of  me  as  a  screen  and  in  that 
way  get  a  good  look  at  him  through  my  glass. 

Off  his  guard,  he  loses  the  alert  nervous  manner 
noticed  at  first,  and  seems  winningly  peaceful  and 
social  —  but  just  as  I  am  allowing  him  all  the 
virtues  of  the  decalogue,  he  flies  at  a  white-throat 
that  presumes  to  light  on  the  fence,  and  drives  it 
off  in  a  temper  ! 

I  next  find  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Chewink  by  the 
corner  of  the  fence  where  grain  and  water  are 
kept  for  the  birds,  and  when  Mr.  Chewink  is  not 
chasing  after  white-throats,  they  busy  themselves 
hunting  among  the  leaves.  Near  by  a  partridge 
sits  motionless  on  a  limb,  so  close  to  a  tree  she 
seems  part  of  it.  So  much  for  being  in  the  land- 
scape! I  take  Madam  Partridge's  hint,  and 
perch  myself  on  the  fence  with  my  back  to  a  tree 
that  stands  by  it ;  and,  thanks  to  the  device,  when 
Mr.  Chewink  comes,  after  hopping  about  uncon- 
sciously just  in  range  of  my  glass,  he  flies  up  on 
an  arching  blackberry  stem  only  a  few  feet  from 
me  and  sings  softly  to  himself  for  several  minutes 
without  ever  noticing  me ! 

After  about  a  week  a  storm  came  that  drove 


INDIGO-BIRD.  119 

the  chewinks  south,  and  I  searched  through  the 
raspberry  patch  and  wandered  through  the  woods 
calling  to  them  in  vain.  But  one  day  after  the 
middle  of  the  month  I  found  another  male  eating 
the  grain.  He  scratched  among  the  leaves  in  full 
view,  running  at  them  with  a  queer  energetic  mo- 
tion, tossing  them  up  behind  him.  I  had  a  long 
conversation  with  him,  but  though  he  answered 
all  my  remarks  in  a  very  friendly  way,  he  looked 
cold,  and  talked  in  rather  a  pensive  strain,  and  I 
saw  no  more  of  the  family  that  fall. 


xxxm. 

INDIGO-BIRD. 

IN  a  paper  in  the  "  Audubon  Magazine,"  Mr. 
Ridgway  has  shown  what  a  mistake  has  been 
made  in  depreciating  our  American  songsters. 
With  equal  justice  an  article  might  be  written, 
calling  attention  to  the  brilliant  plumages  of  many 
of  our  northern  birds.  The  purple  grackle,  ori- 
ole, bluebird,  goldfinch,  humming-bird,  barn  swal- 
low, blue  jay,  purple  finch,  scarlet  tanager,  red- 
headed woodpecker,  yellow -throated  vireo,  and 
numbers  of  our  warblers  would  excite  wondering 
delight  if  they  should  bear  South  American  or 
European  labels.  Indeed,  among  birds  as  among 
roadside  flowers,  we  need  to  make  it  the  fashion 
to  appreciate  our  own  national  gallery  of  beauties. 


120     BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

Not  the  least  of  our  most  brilliant  every-day 
songsters  is  the  indigo-bird.  Only  in  a  poor  light 
is  he  as  dull  as  common  indigo.  In  the  sunlight 
his  coat  is  an  intense,  exquisite  blue,  the  shade  of 
which  varies  as  he  moves,  and  is  described  by 
Thoreau  as  "  glowing  indigo."  Mrs.  Indigo  has 
a  pretty  tinge  of  blue  on  her  shoulders  and  tail 
feathers,  but  if  the  light  is  not  right  to  bring  this 
out,  the  peculiarly  warm  brown,  which  is  almost 
burnt  sienna,  is  enough  to  distinguish  her  from 
the  ordinary  brown  birds  that  are  like  her  in  size 
and  build.  Her  habit  of  jerking  her  tail  from 
side  to  side  is  also  diagnostic. 

The  indigo-bird  is  one  of  our  most  energetic, 
tireless  songsters.  He  is  usually  seen  on  the  top 
of  a  bush  or  a  tree  not  more  than  twenty  or  thirty 
feet  high  ;  often  in  the  edge  of  the  woods,  or  in  a 
clump  of  bushes  beside  the  road,  and  sometimes 
in  the  garden,  where  his  breezy,  sunny  song  shows 
that  he  is  making  the  most  of  all  the  light  and 
air  that  are  to  be  had.  Blithe  and  merry  in  the 
sunshine,  he  sings  as  loudly  through  the  noonday 
heat  as  in  the  cooler  hours. 

'His  roundelay  has  been  syllabified  in  various 
ways,  but  the  rhythm  and  tone  may  be  suggested 
by  che-ree'  che-ree'  che-ree'  che-ree'  che-rah'  rah- 
rup'.  The  last  half  varies  greatly,  sometimes 
being  che-rah'  rah-ah-rup,  or  che-rah'  che-rip' 
cherup'.  Very  often  the  song  ends  with  an  inde- 
scribable, rapid  flourish  of  confused  notes. 


INDIGO-BIRD.  121 

This  June  a  pair  of  indigo-birds  built  in  the 
edge  of  the  woods  only  a  few  rods  from  the  house, 
but  I  think  they  never  ceased  to  regret  their 
temerity.  The  nest  was  a  pretty  little  bunch  of 
dry  leaves  and  grass,  and  its  deep,  narrow  cavity 
was  lined  with  hair.  It  was  wedged  into  the  fork 
of  a  tiny  beech,  only  six  inches  from  the  ground, 
and  not  more  than  three  feet  from  the  carriage 
drive.  The  mother  would  sit  quietly  when  wag- 
ons passed,  but  as  soon  as  she  found  that  I  had  dis- 
covered her  nest  would  fly  off  in  distress  whenever 
I  happened  to  be  walking  by.  Unlike  goldfinches 
and  sparrows,  the  mother  never  got  used  to  me, 
and  to  the  last  suspected  me  of  —  I  don't  know 
what  murderous  intentions  —  darting  off  into  the 
low  bushes  with  her  metallic  cheep,  cheep,  as  soon 
as  she  caught  sight  of  me,  and  almost  refusing  to 
feed  her  babies  till  I  had  gone  back  to  the  house. 
Her  husband,  though  somewhat  suspicious,  could 
not  share  her  alarm ;  he  chirped  and  jerked  his 
tail  about,  but  his  anxiety  had  a  perfunctory  air. 

Earlier  in  the  season  I  saw  a  very  marked  in- 
stance of  this  difference  in  temperament.  I  was 
walking  through  the  edge  of  a  clearing  when  I 
scared  up  a  mother  indigo-bird,  apparently  look- 
ing for  a  good  site  for  her  nest.  She  was  much 
excited,  and  twitched  her  tail  as  she  flew  about 
crying  cheep,  cheep.  She  made  so  much  noise 
that  her  husband  heard  her,  and  came  flying  home 
to  rescue  her.  He  did  not  think  either  my  dogs  or 


122     BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

I  looked  belligerent,  but  followed  her  from  limb 
to  limb  to  be  near  if  we  should  attack  her.  It 
was  evident  that  he  did  not  sympathize  with  her 
fears,  as  he  neither  cried  out  nor  jerked  his  tail ; 
and  after  he  had  chased  her  patiently  all  over  the 
branches,  from  one  tree  to  another,  and  through 
the  bushes,  at  last  he  turned  toward  her  on  a 
branch  and  looked  at  her  as  much  as  to  say,  — 

"  Oh !  you  tiresome  creature  ;  why  will  you  be 
so  absurd  ?  Don't  you  see  they  're  not  going  to 
hurt  you?" 

His  contempt  had  no  effect,  however,  and  —  he 
opened  his  mouth  at  her  !  This  threat  of  conju- 
gal authority  subdued  her,  and  at  last  she  meekly 
flew  off  into  the  woods  with  him.  But,  like  some 
other  good  wives,  she  had  her  way  in  the  end, 
and  though  she  followed  Mr.  Indigo  back  there 
several  times  to  look  for  "  empty  lots,"  two  or 
three  more  scares  determined  her,  and  the  nest 
was  built  elsewhere ! 

XXXIV. 

PURPLE   FINCH. 

THE  purple  finch  is  about  the  size  of  his  cousin 
the  song  sparrow.  He  is  as  fond  of  singing  in  a 
maple  or  an  evergreen  as  chippy  is  of  trilling  on 
the  lawn,  and  the  result  is  much  more  satisfac- 
tory, although  he  does  not  sing  as  well  as  the  song 
sparrow. 


PURPLE  FINCH.  123 

Now  and  then  you  catch  a  sweet  liquid  note, 
but  for  the  most  part  his  song  is  only  a  bright 
warble,  without  beginning  or  end.  The  song 
sparrow,  you  know,  begins,  strikes  his  upper  note 
three  times,  and  then  runs  down  the  scale,  finish- 
ing off  usually  with  a  little  flourish  ;  but  the  pur- 
ple finch  seems  to  sing  in  circles,  without  much 
musical  sense  —  nothing  but  a  general  feeling 
that  the  sun  is  warm  and  bright,  and  there  are 
plenty  of  buds  and  seeds  to  be  found  near  by. 
Thoreau  puts  the  song  in  syllables  as  —  a-tuyitter- 
witter-witter-wee,  a-witter-witter-wee. 

The  song  is  at  its  best  when  our  pretty  finch  is 
in  love.  Then  it  has  more  expression  and  sweet- 
ness and  resembles  the  whisper  song  of  the  robin. 
And  when  he  bows  and  dances  before  the  little 
brown  lady  he  is  trying  to  win  for  his  bride,  his 
pretty  magenta  head  and  back,  his  rosy  throat 
and  white  breast,  with  his  graceful  ways  and  ten- 
der song,  make  him  an  attractive  suitor.  The 
brown-streaked,  sparrowy-looking  little  creature 
who  seems  to  ignore  him  at  first,  can  scarcely  help 
feeling  flattered  by  the  devotion  of  such  a  hand- 
some cavalier,  and  you  feel  sure  that  his  wooing 
will  come  to  a  happy  end. 

* 

Like  the  waxwings,  bobolinks,  wnite-throated 
sparrows,  blue  jays,  goldfinches,  and  swifts,  ex- 
cept in  the  nesting  season,  the  purple  finches  are 
generally  found  in  flocks,  their  favorite  haunts 
being  woods  and  orchards. 


124     BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

XXXV. 

RED-EYED   VIREO. 

AMONG  the  songs  that  come  through  the  open 
window  in  summer,  there  is  one  I  hear  when  the 
midday  heat  has  silenced  nearly  all  the  others.  It 
comes  from  the  upper  branches  of  the  trees  about 
the  house,  and  is  a  preoccupied  warble  of  three 
loud,  guttural  notes,  given  with  monotonous  va- 
riety. In  rhythm  it  is  something  like  hc-ha-wha 
or  ha-ha-wha,  or,  again,  he-ha-whip  in  rising  in- 
flection, and  he-ha-whee  in  falling  cadence. 

If  I  go  out  and  focus  my  glass  on  the  dull- 
colored  bird  that  moves  along  over  the  branches 
inspecting  the  leaves  in  such  a  business-like  way,  I 
discover  it  to  be  an  exquisite  little  creature,  tinted 
more  delicately  than  the  waxwing,  but  with  much 
the  same  glossy  look  and  elegant  air.  It  is  a 
slender  bird,  about  half  as  large  as  a  robin.  Its 
back  is  olive,  and  its  breast  white,  of  such  tints 
that  when  the  sunlight  is  on  the  leaves  our  vireo 
is  well  disguised,  for  its  back  looks  like  the  upper 
side  of  the  leaf,  and  its  breast  like  the  under  side 
with  the  sun  on  it.  If  the  bird  considerately  flies 
down  into  the  lower  branches,  as  it  turns  its  head 
to  one  side,  I  can  make  out  its  ash-colored  cap 
and  the  lines  that  border  it,  —  first  a  black  one, 
then  a  white,  and  below  that  another  black  line, 
running  through  the  eye. 


RED-EYED   VIREO.  125 

If  its  search  among  the  lower  branches  is  suc- 
cessful it  runs  along  the  length  of  a  limb,  holding 
its  worm  out  at  bill's  length,  shaking  it  over  the 
limb  as  if  afraid  of  dropping  it  before  it  is  in  con- 
dition to  swallow. 

But  although  one  becomes  attached  to  the  cheery 
bird  that  sings  at  its  work  from  morning  till  night, 
in  park  and  common,  as  well  as  about  the  country 
house,  the  best  way  to  know  it  is  to  follow  one  of 
the  family  into  the  edge  of  the  woods  where  it 
builds  its  nest. 

Such  an  exquisite  little  workman  as  you  discover 
it  to  be !  It  wonders  how  the  meadow-lark  and 
bobolink  can  like  to  nest  on  the  damp  ground,  and 
how  the  woodpeckers  can  live  in  a  tree  trunk,  — 
how  can.  they  ever  keep  their  babies  quiet  without 
a  cradle  !  The  coarse  mud-plastered  house  of  the 
robin  fills  it  with  lofty  surprise.  For  its  part  it 
usually  chooses  a  lithe  sapling  that  responds  to  all 
the  caprices  of  the  wind,  and  from  the  fork  of  one 
of  its  twigs  hangs  a  dainty  birch-bark  basket. 

For  lining  it  picks  up  leaf-bud  cases,  curving 
stems  of  the  maple  seeds,  —  wings  the  children 
call  them,  —  and  now  and  then  a  spray  of  hem- 
lock. With  the  artist's  instinct  it  puts  the  strips 
of  brown  bark  next  the  lining,  and  keeps  the  shin- 
ing silvery  bits  for  the  outside.  Sometimes  it 
puts  in  pieces  of  white,  crisp,  last  year's  leaves, 
and  often  steals  the  side  of  a  small  wasp's  nest  to 
weave  in  with  the  rest,  while  bits  of  white  cob- 


126     BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

web-like  substance  that  look  as  if  taken  from  co- 
coons are  fastened  on  for  ornament. 

What  could  you  have  more  daintily  pretty? 
Nothing  after  the  four  white,  delicately  wreathed 
oval  eggs  are  laid  on  the  maple  wing  stems  in  the 
bottom. 

On  such  a  nest  as  this,  with  the  tender  green 
leaves  to  shield  her  from  stray  sunbeams,  and  the 
wind  to  rock  her  gently  back  and  forth,  brooding 
must  lose  some  of  its  wearisome  monotony ;  and 
you  are  tempted  to  account  for  the  difference  be- 
tween the  nervousness  of  some  bird  mothers  and 
the  contented  trustfulness  of  the  vireo. 

One  day  I  accidentally  surprised  a  vireo  on  her 
nest.  Here  was  a  chance  to  see  her  red  eyes.  I 
leveled  my  glasses  at  them  and  stared  with  the  in- 
sistent curiosity  of  an  enthusiast.  Nearer  and 
nearer  I  crept,  and  actually  got  within  two  feet  of 
the  tree  before  she  stirred.  Then  she  flew  off 
with  only  a  mildly  complaining  whee-ough,  and 
sat  down  in  a  tree  near  by  to  see  what  I  woidd  do 
next.  But  just  then  I  espied  a  wasp's  nest  about 
two  feet  over  hers,  and  not  waiting  to  see  if  it  was 
"  to  let,"  retreated,  wondering  at  the  proximity. 

There  were  a  number  of  vireo  families  that  I 
was  watching  last  spring,  and  one  of  them  built 
so  low  that  by  pulling  down  the  end  of  the  branch 
I  could  reach  into  the  nest.  One  day  when  I 
went  to  examine  the  eggs  they  had  turned  into  a 
family  of  such  big  yellow-throated  youngsters  that 
they  filled  the  nest. 


RED-EYED   VIREO.  127 

The  mother  did  not  seem  to  be  there,  so  I  sat 
down  with  my  dogs  near  by  to  wait  for  her.  I 
supposed  she  was  off  worm-hunting  and  would  fly 
back  in  great  excitement  on  discovering  the  in- 
truders. But  all  at  once,  almost  over  my  head,  I 
heard  a  low,  crooning  whee-ah  !  I  turned  in  sur- 
prise, and  there  was  my  mother  bird  looking  down 
at  me  with  all  the  composure  of  an  old  friend. 
Wha-wha-wha,  she  said,  as  she  saw  the  dogs  and 
took  in  the  group  again.  As  we  kept  still,  and 
did  not  offer  to  molest  her  children,  she  soon  be- 
gan looking  about  for  worms,  saying  ter-ter-eater 
in  the  most  complacent  tone  as  she  worked.  She 
would  turn  her  head  and  look  down  at  us  now  and 
then  with  mild  curiosity;  but  although  I  went 
back  to  the  nest  to  test  her  she  seemed  to  have 
perfect  confidence  in  me,  not  showing  the  least 
alarm. 

Afterward  I  heard  the  vireo  song  from  her,  and 
concluded  that  she  was  the  father  of  the  family, 
left  on  guard  while  the  mother  was  taking  her 
rest.  I  thought  perhaps  that  accounted  for  some 
of  the  indifference,  but  after  that,  when  I  went  to 
see  them,  I  found  both  old  birds,  and  always  met 
with  the  same  trustfulness.  Indeed,  they  would 
talk  to  me  in  the  most  friendly  manner,  answering 
my  broken  bird  talk  with  gentle  sympathetic  seri- 
ousness that  said  very  plainly  they  knew  I  meant 
well,  and  what  a  sweet  winsome  sound  it  had, 
uttered  in  their  low  caressing;  tones  ! 


128     BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

To  their  enemies,  however,  these  beautiful  birds 
are  neither  gentle  nor  confiding.  Last  June,  as  I 
was  watching  a  chestnut-sided  warbler  from  the 
undergrowth  near  a  vireo's  nest,  I  heard  a  great 
commotion  among  the  thrushes  and  vireos,  and 
hurried  out  of  the  cover  to  see  what  was  the  trouble. 
I  heard  a  low  complaining  croon  from  one  of  the 
vireos,  and  looking  up  saw,  to  my  surprise,  a 
gray  screech  owl  flying  blindly  about  among  the 
branches.  After  a  little  he  stumbled  upon  a  dead 
limb  and  sat  down,  trying  to  feel  at  home.  But 
the  vireos  were  crying  ominously  Jcray,  kree-kree- 
kree-kree,  and  when  he  thought  how  they  had 
darted  down  and  snapped  their  bills  at  him  as  he 
came  along,  he  edged  uneasily  over  the  branch. 
Just  then  my  dog  came  running  noisily  through 
the  dead  leaves  under  the  tree.  What  could  be 
coming  next !  The  scared,  awkward  owl  turned 
his  head  over  to  one  side  and  strained  his  big  eyes 
to  see.  His  ears  stood  up,  and  his  pupils  grew 
bigger  and  bigger  with  fright.  He  looked  like  a 
great  booby  entrapped  by  a  practical  joke.  But 
this  was  too  serious.  What  with  a  dozen  vireos 
and  thrushes  threatening  him,  some  wild  animal 
or  other  rushing  about  at  the  foot  of  the  tree,  — 
and  the  pair  of  big  glass  eyes  almost  as  large  as 
his  own,  through  which  another  mysterious  object 
was  menacing  him.  No  owl  could  bear  it !  Away 
he  flew,  as  fast  as  his  blundering  wings  could  flap, 
followed  by  the  angry  vireos,  who  saw  him  well 


YELLOW-THROATED   VIREO.  129 

out  of  their  neighborhood  before  they  let  him 
alone. 

The  next  day  I  scared  up  the  foolish  fellow 
again,  in  the  same  place,  and  found  that  the  near- 
est vireo's  nest  was  gone !  Not  a  trace  was  left, 
nothing  but  one  feather !  Had  he  taken  his  re- 
venge in  the  night?  The  trees  refused  to  tell 
tales,  and  I  had  to  be  satisfied  with  giving  him 
such  a  scare  as  would  keep  him  away  in  future. 


XXXVI. 

YELLOW-THROATED  VIREO. 

THE  name  of  this  beautiful  bird  calls  up  college 
days,  for  my  first  memory  of  him  is  a  picture  of 
one  of  the  fairest  May  mornings  upon  which  a 
Connecticut  Valley  sun  ever  rose. 

Dandelions  were  just  beginning  to  dot  the  ten- 
der grass,  and  the  air  was  full  of  busy  travellers 
stopping  on  their  northward  journey  to  see  the 
beautiful  old  New  England  town  that  the  bird- 
voiced  Jenny  Lind  christened  the  "  paradise  of 
America."  Eager  for  a  sight  of  the  strangers,  I 
hid  myself  under  the  spreading  boughs  of  an  old 
apple-tree  in  the  corner  of  an  orchard  and  waited 
to  see  what  would  come. 

A  purple  finch  was  now  gathering  materials  for 
her  nest  where  she  had  been  coquetting  with  her 
handsome  lover  not  long  before,  and  the  catbird 


130     BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

who  lived  across  the  road  by  the  bank  of  Mill 
River  had  flown  over  to  talk  with  the  visitors  ; 
while  above  the  rest  full  and  rich  came  the  song 
of  the  handsome  rose-breasted  grosbeak.  My 
cover  was  a  happy  thought.  Right  into  the  tree 
over  my  head  came  the  birds,  so  busy  flitting 
about  the  leaves  they  had  little  time  to  look  under 
the  branches.  And  most  beautiful  of  all — though 
a  rainbow  of  warblers  came  before  I  left  —  was 
this  dainty,  golden-throated  vireo. 

Less  restless  than  the  warblers,  he  inspected  the 
lioughs  more  thoroughly,  giving  me  at  intervals 
glimpses  of  his  olive  back,  white  wing  bars,  and 
bright  yellow  chin  and  throat  as  well  as  his  pretty 
yellow  breast  that  turns  to  white  below.  Whe-he- 
he,  he  sang  out  as  he  worked,  and  I  suspect  his 
sharp  eyes  detected  me  when  he  turned  his  head 
on  one  side  and  peered  through  the  leaves. 

How  delighted  I  was  to  discover,  a  few  weeks 
later,  that  he  or  one  of  his  brothers  had  gone  to 
housekeeping  on  the  campus  !  The  nest  was  the 
first  vireo  basket  I  had  ever  seen,  and  I  well  re- 
member the  enthusiasm  it  excited  in  the  other 
college  girls.  We  would  go  out  after  breakfast, 
wade  through  the  damp  grass  to  the  maple  from 
which  it  hung,  and  stand  looking  up  at  it,  admir- 
ing the  bits  of  white  trimming  fastened  on  at  reg- 
ular intervals  along  the  sides,  and  exclaiming  at 
the  beauty  of  the  architect  watching  us  from  among 
the  leaves,  until,  at  last,  the  tolling  of  the  chapel 
bell  would  send  us  hurrying  back  up  the  hill. 


WARBLING   VIREO.  131 

XXXVII. 

WARBLING   VIREO. 

THE  warbling  is  the  smallest  of  the  three  vireos. 
Its  back  is  grayish  olive,  and  its  breast  is  tinged 
with  yellow.  It  may  be  distinguished  from  the 
others  by  his  song. 

Dr.  Brewer  says :  "  This  vireo  ...  is  to  a 
large  extent  a  resident  of  villages,  towns,  and 
even  cities.  It  is  by  far  the  sweetest  singer  that 
ventures  within  their  crowded  streets  and  public 
squares,  .  .  .  and  the  melody  of  its  song  is  ex- 
quisitely soft  and  beautiful.  It  is  chiefly  to  be 
found  among  the  tall  trees,  in  the  vicinity  of  dwell- 
ings, where  it  seems  to  delight  to  stay,  and  from 
their  highest  tops  to  suspend  its  pensile  nest.  It 
is  especially  abundant  among  the  elms  on  Boston 
Common." 

By  reason  of  their  dainty  coats  and  shapely  forms, 
their  pretty  ways  and  their  repose  of  manner,  the 
vireos  remind  one  most  forcibly  of  the  waxwings. 

Birds  naturally  group  themselves  by  occupation, 
and,  as  a  Darwinian  corollary,  by  coloring.  The 
sparrows  spend  most  of  their  time  on  the  ground 
searching  for  seeds,  and  are  protected  by  their 
earth-colored  suits ;  the  woodpeckers  live  clinging 
to  tree  trunks,  and  many  of  them  are  disguised  by 
their  likeness  to  the  bark ;  the  flycatchers  take 
their  living  from  the  insects  that  swarm  in  the 


132     BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

air,  and  their  dull  colors  serve  as  non-conductors 
of  attention ;  while  the  vireos,  who  live  on  measure- 
worms  and  similar  morsels,  are  so  exclusively  de- 
voted to  foliage  that  they  might  well  be  called 
leaf-birds,  and  their  tints  harmonize  strikingly 
with  their  habits.  They  may  well  be  known  as 
"  greenlets." 

xxxvni. 

OVEN-BIRD;  GOLDEN-CROWNED  THRUSH. 

WE  have  had  the  loud  rattling  trill  of  the  yel- 
low hammer,  the  alarm  of  the  kingfisher,  and  the 
fine,  shrill  trill  of  the  chipping  sparrow,  but  now 
we  come  to  one  that  differs  from  them  all.  Mr. 
Burroughs  has  aptly  described  it  by  the  word 
teach-er.  It  seems  to  beat  upon  the  air,  growing 
louder  and  louder,  increasing  in  intensity,  volume, 
and  rapidity  until  the  end,  like 

teach-er,  teach-er,  teach-er,  teach-er,  teacher 


Ordinarily  the  trill  is  your  clue  in  looking  for 
the  oven-bird.  When  you  hear  it  close  at  hand, 
and  fail  to  see  him  on  a  tree,  look  carefully  under 
the  bushes  on  the  ground.  If  you  see  a  bird  the 
size  of  the  white  -  throated  sparrow,  tossing  the 
dead  leaves  aside  with  his  bill  and  scratching  them 


OVEN-BIRD.  133 

up,  less  like  a  chewink  than  like  a  hen,  you  have 
probably  found  your  friend. 

His  olive-green  back  makes  him  inconspicuous 
when  he  is  among  the  leaves,  and  the  thick  brown 
spotting  on  his  white  breast  serves  as  a  disguise 
when  he  is  on  the  ground.  If  you  are  fortunate 
you  will  discover  his  orange-brown  crown,  enclosed 
by  two  black  stripes  that  converge  toward  the 
bill. 

Like  the  partridge,  the  crow,  the  blackbirds, 
and  the  meadow-lark,  the  oven-bird  is  a  walker,  so 
that  you  can  distinguish  him  at  a  glance  merely 
by  his  leisurely  dignified  gait,  —  it  is  such  a  con- 
trast to  the  hopping  of  the  chewinks  and  spar- 
rows. 

The  leaf-house  from  which  the  oven-bird  gets 
his  name  varies  in  its  roofing,  but  the  first  nest  I 
ever  found  may  be  taken  as  a  type  of  the  com- 
monest style  of  architecture.  It  was  a  bright  morn- 
ing in  June,  and  while  walking  through  the  edge 
of  a  grove  of  young  maples  a  brown  shadow  started 
up  from  under  my  feet  and  disappeared  in  the 
woods.  On  looking  down  beside  a  blooming  Solo- 
mon's seal,  I  saw  what  at  first  glance  seemed  to 
be  a  bunch  of  dry  leaves,  —  one  of  the  thousand 
pushed  up  by  mice  or  crowding  spring  flowers. 
But  the  hint  given  by  the  fleeting  shadow  could 
not  be  ignored,  and  I  stooped  down  to  examine 
the  bunch.  I  felt  it  over  eagerly,  —  one,  two, 
three  sides,  no  opening ;  the  fourth,  my  fingers 


134    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

slipped  in,  —  it  was  the  unique  oven-bird's  nest  I 
had  been  hoping  to  find  ever  since  I  was  a  child. 

In  an  instant  I  was  on  hands  and  knees  peering 
through  the  mysterious  doorway.  How  interest- 
ing !  There  lay  five  exquisite  eggs,  their  irregu- 
lar brown  speckles  centring  in  a  crown  about  the 
larger  end.  What  a  wonderful  builder  the  little 
creature  seemed !  His  arched  roof  was  lined  so 
smoothly  with  soft  dry  leaves  it  suggested  a  fret- 
work ceiling.  What  a  tiny  palace  of  beauty  had 
this  golden-crowned  queen  of  the  thrushes  !  What 
mystery  that  bunch  of  leaves  held !  The  little 
brown  lady  might  have  been  sitting  at  the  mouth 
of  a  fairy  cave. 

The  next  day  I  found  three  of  the  eggs  hatched, 
and  such  absurd -looking  nestlings  had  well  been 
taken  for  bird  gnomes.  They  seemed  all  mouth 
and  eyeball !  Small  red  appendages  answered 
for  wings,  and  tufts  of  gray  down  on  the  skin  did 
for  a  coat  of  feathers.  Even  when  feebly  throw- 
ing up  their  heads  and  opening  their  big  yellow 
throats  for  worms,  the  birds'  eyes  were  closed  so 
fast  they  had  an  uncanny  appearance.  The  same 
day  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  stumble  upon  an- 
other nest.  This  was  essentially  the  same,  though 
built  more  of  fine  roots. 

The  ingenuity  of  the  builders  is  shown  by  a 
device  which  puzzled  me  greatly  in  my  first  nest. 
I  made  several  visits  to  it,  and  when  the  little 
ones  had  flown,  found  that  the  grass  around  the 


OVEN-BIRD.  135 

mouth  of  the  nest  had  been  pulled  together,  so  as 
to  leave  only  a  round  hole  just  large  enough  for 
the  bird  to  go  in  and  out.  For  some  time  I  was 
at  a  loss  to  account  for  it,  but  I  had  noticed  from 
the  outset  that  this  bird  acted  peculiarly.  On 


none  of  my  visits  had  she  uttered  a  note  or  come 
near  me,  while  the  other  mother  oven-birds  always 
began  smacking  their  bills  and  flying  hither  and 
thither  the  instant  I  appeared.  Perhaps  this 
mother  was  more  thoughtful  than  the  others,  and 
considering  their  clatter  dangerous,  went  to  the 
other  extreme. 

The  most  terrified  oven-bird  that  I  have  ever 
seen  I  found  on  a  densely  wooded  hillside  in  the 
same  woods.  She  began  her  smacking  as  soon  as 
we  came  in  sight,  but  although  we  hunted  care- 
fully for  the,  nest  we  could  not  find  a  trace  of  it. 
We  sat  down  on  a  log  and  waited  for  her  to  show 


136    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

it  to  us,  but  that  did  no  good.  She  did  confine 
herself  to  a  radius  of  about  three  rods,  but  select- 
ing saplings  at  extreme  points  flew  from  one  to 
the  other  as  she  inspected  us, -all  the  while  wag- 
ging her  tail  nervously  up  and  down  and  keeping 
up  the  monotonous  smacking. 

Finding  her  as  incorrigible  as  the  mosquitoes, 
and  realizing  the  approach  of  the  dinner  hour, 
my  friend  and  I  set  out  for  home.  But  in  our 
case  the  gods  favored  the  cowardly,  for,  as  we 
were  brandishing  our  maple  twigs  in  the  faces  of 
pursuing  punkies  and  mosquitoes,  we  suddenly 
started  up  the  little  family  we  had  been  hunting 
for. 

They  ran  out  from  the  leaves  under  our  feet, 
scudding  off  in  all  directions.  My  two  dogs 
pounced  after  them,  and  we  flew  in  terror  after 
the  dogs,  but  Balder's  big  jaws  had  nearly  en- 
gulfed them  before  we  had  dragged  him  off.  In 
the  midst  of  the  confusion  the  terrified  mother  flew 
to  the  ground  and  began  trailing  in  a  pitifully 
excited  way.  She  spread  out  her  wings  and  tail, 
dragging  them  along  the  earth  as  if  helpless.  On 
finding  that  we  would  not  accept  that  decoy,  and 
seeing  that  her  little  ones  had  hidden  away  under 
the  leaves,  she  tried  another  plan  and  walked  once 
slowly  back  and  forth  for  about  a  rod  on  the 
side  away  from  her  young.  Having,  as  she  sup- 
posed, completely  diverted  our  attention  by  these 
imaginative  ruses,  as  the  dogs  were  perfectly 


OVEN-BIRD.  137 

quiet,  and  we  had  not  moved  since  the  first  alarm, 
she  made  a  detour  and  risked  an  examination  of 
the  place  where  the  little  birds  had  disappeared. 

In  watching  the  oven-bird  I  have  been  surprised 
to  find  how  irregular  individuals  are  in  their  time 
of  nesting.  On  June  11  I  found  a  family  of  full- 
grown  young  being  fed  in  the  branches  of  a  ma- 
ple-tree. The  same  day  I  found  a  nest  full  of 
eggs.  June  12  three  of  these  eggs  hatched,  and 
I  found  a  nest  of  young  a  quarter  grown.  June 
13  I  found  the  family  that  I  have  just  described 
well  out  of  their  nest.  These  could  hardly  have 
been  first  and  second  broods,  as  they  were  in  all 
stages  of  development.  This  same  difference  I 
have  since  found  in  the  nesting  of  robins,  vireos, 
chipping  birds,  song  sparrows  and  others. 

When  I  considered  myself  well  acquainted 
with  the  oven-bird  and  its  notes,  I  was  much  sur- 
prised to  be  told  that  it  had  a  beautiful  song  dis- 
tinct from  the  usual  trill.  The  trill  seems  to  be 
used  for  all  its  commonplace  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings, but,  as  Mr.  Bicknell  says,  "  on  occasion,  as 
if  sudden  emotion  carried  it  beyond  the  restric- 
tions that  ordinarily  beset  its  expression,  it  bursts 
forth  with  a  wild  outpouring  of  intricate  and 
melodious  song.  This  song  is  produced  on  the 
wing,  oftenest  when  the  spell  of  evening  is  com- 
ing over  the  woods.  Sometimes  it  may  be  heard 
as  an  outburst  of  vesper  melody  carried  above  the 
foliage  of  the  shadowy  forest  and  descending  and 
dying  away  with  the  waning  twilight." 


138      BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

Mr.  Bicknell  speaks  only  of  the  two  songs,  but 
I  have  heard  the  two  combined.  The  outbreak 
of  high,  rapid,  confused  notes  being  interlarded 
with  the  low-pitched  conversational  trilling  teach' - 
er,  teach'er.  By  increasing  the  confusion,  this 
adds  greatly  to  the  effect  of  excitement  spoken  of 
by  Mr.  Bicknell.  Though  most  common  at  even- 
ing or  in  the  night,  I  have  frequently  heard  this 
medley  in  both  morning  and  afternoon.  The 
rhythm  and  volume  of  this  interesting  song  in  its 
simplest  form  may  be  suggested  by  the  syllables 
whee'he,  whee'he,  whee'ha,  he'  he'  ha,  increasing 
in  volume  toward  the  middle,  and  unlike  the  or- 
dinary trill,  diminishing  in  intensity  again  at  the 
close. 

XXXIX. 

JUNCO;    SLATE-COLORED    SNOWBIRD. 

EARLY  in  September  you  may  have  found  the 
j  uncos,  companies  of  little  gray-robed  monks  and 
nuns,  just  emerging  from  the  forests  where  they 
cloister  during  the  summer  months.  Most  of 
them  nest  well  to  the  north,  but  still  there  are 
many  that  content  themselves  with  the  cool  moun- 
tain ranges  of  the  Alleghanies. 

If  they  build  in  your  locality,  as  they  do  here, 
their  habits,  like  those  of  the  chickadee,  are 
greatly  changed  in  summer,  and  you  will  take 
more  than  one  casual  walk  through  the  woods  be- 


JUNCO.  139 

fore  you  discover  them.  They  are  no  longer  in 
flocks,  but  in  pairs,  and  I  consider  myself  fortu- 
nate if  I  get  a  timid  look  from  one  from  among 
the  dead  branches  of  a  fallen  tree  top. 

Early  last  May  I  was  delighted  to  see  a  pair 
on  the  edge  of  the  raspberry  patch,  but  though 
they  inspected  the  recesses  of  a  pile  of  brush, 
seemed  greatly  interested  in  the  nooks  and  cran- 
nies of  an  upturned  root,  and  reviewed  the  attrac- 
tions of  a  pretty  young  hemlock  that  stood  in  a 
moss-grown  swamp  on  the  border  of  the  patch,  I 
suspect  it  was  only  a  feint ;  and  when  they  came 
to  the  grave  business  of  house  choosing  they  fol- 
lowed family  traditions  and  built  under  a  stump, 
in  a  hole  beneath  the  root  of  a  tree,  under  an 
overhanging  bank,  or  somewhere  else  on  the 
ground,  with  a  natural  roof  to  keep  off  the  rain. 

At  all  events,  they  left  the  raspberry  patch, 
and  with  the  exception  of  one  or  two  that  I  heard 
giving  their  high-keyed  woodsy  trill  in  June,  that 
was  the  last  time  I  saw  any  of  the  family  there 
until  fall.  Then  they  came  out  in  time  to  meet 
their  cousins  the  white-throats,  and  stayed  till 
after  the  first  snows. 

Like  the  sparrows,  waxwings,  blackbirds,  swal- 
lows, blue  jays,  swifts,  and  others,  the  juncos  live 
in  flocks  when  not  nesting.  One  day  in  Septem- 
ber I  found  a  number  of  them  gathered  around 
an  old  barn,  some  sitting  quietly  on  the  boards 
and  sticks  that  lay  on  the  ground,  and  others,  as 


140    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

becomes  inhabitants  of  No.  4,  hopping  about  pick- 
ing up  seeds. 

Another  day  they  and  some  white-throats  were 
by  the  side  of  the  barn  eating  grain  scattered  at 
the  threshing.  Not  content  with  what  they  could 
find  there,  some  of  them  flew  up  on  the  sill  of  a 
small  window,  hopped  along,  and  actually  disap- 
peared in  the  dark  barn. 

As  the  weather  grew  colder  they  came,  as  they 
do  every  spring  and  fall,  to  see  what  they  could 
find  to  eat  by  the  side  of  the  house.  Here,  where 
they  find  only  friends,  they  raise  their  heads  with 
quiet  curiosity  when  you  approach,  and  seem 
notably  gentle,  trustful  birds ;  but  it  is  said  that 
they  show  much  caution  as  well  as  intelligence  in 
eluding  their  enemies,  and  are  among  the  most 
difficult  birds  to  snare. 


XL. 

KINGLETS. 

Do  you  know  these  dainty  little  birds  that  visit 
us  twice  a  year  ?  Some  bright  September  morn- 
ing you  wake  up  and  find  them  flitting  about  the 
apple-trees,  and  know  that  fall  has  come.  But 
they  tell  you  the  fact  in  such  a  breezy,  cheery  way 
that  you  remember  only  how  glad  you  are  to  see 
them.  In  April  they  are  back  just  long  enough 
to  sing  out  "  How  do  you  do  ?  "  and  then  are  off 
for  the  north  so  that  summer  shan't  catch  them. 


KINGLETS.  141 

How  do  they  look  ?  Well,  they  are  fluffy  little 
things  with  grayish  olive  coats  and  whitish  vests 
that  protect  them  as  they  flit  about  the  leaves  as 
perfectly  as  the  vireo's  suits.  That  is  the  way  I 
thought  of  them  when  I  had  only  a  vague  idea 
that  one  of  the  family  had  a  golden  crest,  and  the 
other  wore  a  ruby  crown.  But  one  fall,  when 
they  came  back  to  the  old  thorn-apple  by  the 
garden,  I  thought  I  would  learn  to  know  the 
cousins  apart. 

That  morning  one  little  fellow  had  the  tree  all 
to  himself.  And  what  a  queer  gnome  he  was !  A 
fat  ball  of  feathers,  stilted  up  on  long,  wiry  legs, 
with  eyes  that,  though  set  oddly  enough  far  back 
from  his  bill,  were  yet  so  near  together  they  seemed 
to  prevent  his  seeing  straight  ahead.  He  would 
flash  one  eye  on  me,  and  then  jerk  himself  round 
and  flash  the  other,  scolding  in  the  funniest  way 
with  his  fine  chatter.  I  could  not  see  that  he  had 
any  crown  at  all,  and  so  was  as  much  puzzled  as 
ever  to  decide  which  kinglet  he  was. 

He  and  his  friends  were  here  by  themselves 
about  two  weeks,  working  industriously  all  the 
while  —  dear  little  brownies  —  to  clear  our  moun- 
tain ashes  and  apple-trees  of  insects  before  leaving 
us.  I  came  to  know  them  as  far  off  as  I  could 
see  them  by  their  restless  bluebird  way  of  lifting 
their  wings  and  twinkling  them  in  the  air  as  they 
hunted  through  the  branches.  And  how  they  did 
hunt!  As  the  kinglets  live  among  the  leaves, 


142     BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

they  adopt  the  tints  of  the  vireos,  though  they  are 
as  little  like  them  as  the  fluffy  chickadee  is  like 
the  waxwing  in  build  or  temperament.  The  vireos 
walk  sedately  down  the  length  of  a  branch,  calmly 
turning  their  heads  on  one  side  to  peer  under  the 
leaves  for  their  measure-worm ;  but  the  kinglets ! 

—  clambering  up  a  limb,  turning  from  one  side 
to  the  other,  with  one  big  eye  always  close  to  the 
bark  staring  for  insects ;  fluttering  under  a  twig 
like  a  humming-bird,  and  then  catching  hold  up- 
side down  to  pick  off  an  insect ;  flitting  about 
from  branch  to  branch;   stopping  a  moment  to 
eye  me  inquisitively,  and  then  hurrying  on  with 
their  work  —  the  restless  pigmies  seemed  most 
unvireo  like. 

At  the  end  of  two  weeks  I  had  seen  no  kinglet 
crown  of  any  kind.  But  one  day  I  had  a  surprise. 
Hearing  a  faint  note  from  a  Norway  spruce  I 
looked  up  and  saw  a  kinglet,  but  —  what  was  it  ? 
Instead  of  being  one  of  my  gnomes,  he  was  the 
most  human,  every -day  sort  of  a  bird,  with  a 
naive  interrogative  air  that  might  have  argued 
him  an  American.  Then  his  tiny,  stubby  bill 
stuck  out  from  his  big  head  with  such  a  pert, 
business-like  air  it  gave  my  idea  of  kinglets  an- 
other shock.  What  was  he  ?  Coidd  I  have  been 
wholly  mistaken  ?  Was  my  elf  no  kinglet  at  all 

—  was  this  the  kinglet  ?     Such  a  crown !     I  had 
comforted  myself  for  my  gnome's  lack  of  crown 
by  thinking  that  it  was  concealed  like  the  king- 


KINGLETS.  143 

bird's,  but  here,  —  how  could  such  a  crown  as  this 
ever  have  been  hidden?  Why,  the  black  lines 
came  way  down  to  his  absurd  little  bill,  and  the 
gold  between  them  was  plain  enough  to  be  seen 
almost  as  far  off  as  the  bird  himself. 

I  came  in  bewildered  enough,  but  the  moment 
I  saw  DeKay's  plates  I  understood  it  all.  This 
was  the  golden-crowned,  and  my  pigmies  were  the 
ruby-crowned  kinglets.  After  that  the  two  kinds 
were  here  in  great  numbers  for  two  weeks,  and 
before  the  rubies  left  I  surprised  one  of  them  into 
showing  his  beautiful  scarlet  crown.  The  ruby- 
crowns  went  as  they  had  come,  two  weeks  in  ad- 
vance of  the  goldens. 

When  they  were  both  here  I  used  to  stand 
under  the  apple-trees  and  watch  them.  Some- 
times there  must  have  been  twenty  in  one  tree. 
They  were  very  tame,  but  rarely  found  time  to 
look  at  me. 

Seen  together  the  golden  is  appreciably  the 
smaller;  his  legs  look  shorter,  and  he  is  not  so 
plump,, —  appears  more  like  an  ordinary  bird. 
His  back  is  grayer  than  the  ruby's,  and  when  his 
wings  are  crossed  over  it  you  get  an  effect  of  bars 
near  the  tips.  Mr.  Golden-crown  has  a  concealed 
patch  of  cadmium  orange  in  the  centre  of  his 
crown,  but  his  wife  is  content  with  the  plain  gold, 
and  the  children  often  show  neither  black  nor 
gold.  The  goldens  seem  to  have  less  of  the  wild 
bluebird  habit  of  lifting  their  wings  when  lit,  but 


144      BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

they  hang  upside  down  even  more  than  the  rubies, 
often  flying  up  from  one  spray  to  light  upside 
down  on  the  one  above.  The  goldens  have  a  busi- 
ness-like way  of  getting  under  a  leaf  and  picking 
off  the  insects  one  after  another  as  fast  as  their 
tiny  bills  can  work.  Their  song  is  said  to  be 
inferior  to  that  of  the  rubies,  which  is  considered 
a  ten-days'  marvel  coming  from  such  a  tiny  bird. 

XLI. 
SNOW  BUNTING;  SNOWFLAKE. 

THIS  is  the  true  snowbird,  and  though  it  be- 
longs in  the  same  pigeon-hole  —  that  of  the  finches 
and  sparrows  —  it  can  never  be  confounded  with 
the  junco.  The  monastic  juncos  are  closely 
shrouded  in  slate  -  gray  robes  and  cowls,  only  a 
short  under  robe  of  white  being  marked  off  below 
their  breasts.  The  snowflakes,  on  the  other  hand, 
as  their  name  suggests,  are  mostly  white,  although 
their  backs  are  streaked  with  dusky  and  black. 

The  juncos  come  about  the  house  in  spring  and 
fall,  and  during  the  early  snows,  but  the  snow- 
birds, timid  and  strange,  fly  over  the  fields  and 
are  associated  with  the  wonderful  white  days  of  a 
country  winter,  when  the  sky  is  white,  the  earth 
is  white,  and  the  white  trees  bow  silently  under 
the  wand  of  winter  till  they  stand  an  enchanted 
snow  forest.  For,  as  the  flakes  drift  through  the 


SNOW  BUNTING.  145 

air,  the  snowbirds,  undulating  between  the  white 
earth  and  sky,  seem  like  wandering  spirits  that 
are  a  part  of  the  all-pervading  whiteness.  Tho- 
reau  says,  "  they  are  the  true  spirits  of  the  snow- 
storm. They  are  the  animated  beings  that  ride 
upon  it  and  have  their  life  in  it." 

Mr.  Allen,  in  speaking  of  our  winter  birds, 
says :  "  The  beautiful  snow  buntings  when  whirl- 
ing from  field  to  field  in  compact  flocks,  their 
white  wings  glistening  in  the  sunlight,  form  one 
of  the  most  attractive  sights  of  winter."  He  adds 
that  they  are  the  "  bad  weather  birds  "  of  the  su- 
perstitious, as  they  usually  appear  mysteriously 
during  snowstorms  and  disappear  in  the  weeks 
of  fine  weather.  He  says :  "  Cold,  half-arctic 
countries  being  their  chosen  home,  they  only 
favor  us  with  their  presence  during  those  short 
intervals  when  their  food  in  the  northern  fields 
is  too  deeply  buried  ;  and  being  strong  of  wing 
and  exceedingly  rapid  in  flight,  they  can  in  a  few 
hours  leave  the  plain  for  the  mountain,  or  migrate 
hundreds  of  miles  to  the  northward." 

Late  in  December  I  have  seen  a  flock  of  them 
flying  over  the  meadows  with  the  rhythmical  un- 
dulating motion  of  their  cousins  the  goldfinches, 
twittering  ter-ra-lee,  ter-ra-lee,  ter-ra-lee  as  they 
went.  Now  and  then  they  would  light  for  a  mo- 
ment to  pick  at  the  seeds  appearing  above  the 
snow,  but  soon  they  swept  on  toward  the  north. 


146      BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

XLII. 
SCARLET  TANAGER. 

LIKE  the  vireos,  the  scarlet  tanager  is  asso- 
ciated with  green  tree  tops ;  but  if  you  ask  just 
where  you  will  see  him,  it  is  hard  to  answer.  In 
Northampton,  I  remember  finding  him  in  three 
quite  dissimilar  spots. 

The  bird  of  Paradise  has  become  a  familiar 
sight  in  our  museums,  but  the  good  people  of 
Northampton  follow  Dante  and  see  "  Paradise  " 
itself  before  they  die.  "  Purgatory "  is  there, 
too,  for  warning,  and  the  river  runs  between  the 
two  abodes !  They  lie  just  outside  the  town,  and 
if  you  could  get  some  kindly  spirit  to  guide  you, 
they  would  surely  seem  well  named. 

"  Purgatory  "  lies  barren  and  desolate,  strewn 
with  sand  and  stones  on  which  the  sun  beats 
down  as  if  with  intent  to  torture  imprisoned 
souls.  Opposite  stands  "Paradise,"  a  wood  of 
wondrous  beauty,  —  a  true  elysium  for  the  im- 
mortal spirits  of  birds  and  flowers !  In  its  heart 
is  a  grove  of  musical  pines,  whose  brown,  pine- 
needle  carpet  is  garlanded  with  clumps  of  ferns. 
Close  to  the  river's  edge,  reaching  their  branches 
low  over  it  as  it  narrows  to  a  stream,  the  maples 
and  birches  offer  cool  green  shade  when  the  sun 
is  parching  the  banks  of  "  Purgatory " ;  and  in 
autumn,  when  the  bare  sand  and  stones  grow  cold, 


SCARLET  TANAGER.  147 

the  leaves  of  "  Paradise  "  burn  with  the  tints  of 
sunset. 

On  the  desolate  margin  of  "  Purgatory "  you 
rarely  see  a  human  face,  unless  that  of  some  poor 
soul-tormented  lunatic  who  has  strayed  from  the 
asylum  on  the  hill.  But  in  "  Paradise  "  you  meet 
groups  of  merry  children,  college  girls  gathering 
wild  flowers,  and  all  the  town  in  gala-day  attire. 

This  is  the  haunt  of  the  birds,  and  here  the 
Smith  Audubon  Society  has  gathered  about  Mr. 
Burroughs,  listening  to  his  interpretation  of  the 
chippering  of  the  swifts  that  circle  far  overhead  ; 
hearkening  with  him  to  the  yellow  hammer's  cries, 
and  watching  the  happy  goldfinches,  busy  in  the 
button-wood  tops.  Here  each  level  has  its  bird  — 
from  the  leaves,  the  oven-bird  sends  up  his  cres- 
cendo ;  from  among  the  bushes  comes  the  quarry- 
ing note  of  the  white-throats  ;  low  on  the  boughs 
of  the  trees  the  thrushes  sit  wrapt  in  meditation ; 
in  the  top  of  a  sapling  the  indigo-bird  sings  of 
the  white  violets  beneath  him ;  from  the  hemlocks 
and  pines  come  the  screams  of  the  blue  jays ; 
over  the  river  the  kingfisher  flies,  sounding  his 
alarm  on  the  wing  ;  and  high  overhead  the  soar- 
ing hawk  circles  in  silence. 

One  spring  morning  when  we  were  in  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  spots  of  all  Paradise,  where  a 
tiny  rill  spreads  out  over  the  sand,  bathing  the 
roots  of  the  bright  green  grass  and  the  blue  for- 
get-me-nots, a  true  bird  of  Paradise  came  flying 


148      BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

over  our  heads,  and  uttering  a  loud  chuck  a/i,  hid 
away  in  the  leaves.  It  was  the  scarlet  tanager, 
the  bird  of  glowing  coal,  whose  brilliancy  passes 
wonder.  His  black  wings  and  tail  seemed  only 
to  intensify  his  flaming  coat,  which  literally  daz- 
zled my  eyes  as  I  looked  at  him.  Little  marvel 
that  he  takes  pleasure  in  the  green  leaves !  and 
chooses  a  wife  —  in  most  "  natural  selection  "  — 
who  is  also  his  complemental  color  ! 

But  how  could  Madam  Tanager  ever  live  with 
such  a  fiery  husband  if  her  eyes  did  not  find  re- 
lief in  her  own  greens  ?  Even  then  it  would  seem 
that  she  had  to  become  accustomed  to  him  by  de- 
grees, for  in  his  youth  her  gay  cavalier  is  relieved 
by  green,  yellow,  and  black.  Perhaps  even  his 
own  eyes  get  tired,  for  like  the  bobolink  and  gold- 
finch in  the  fall  he  gets  out  his  old  clothes  and 
flies  away  south  in  as  plain  a  garb  as  his  lady's. 

Strolling  through  Paradise  on  another  day  I 
heard  a  song  that  I  did  not  know,  and  leaving  the 
river  edge  with  its  green  grass  and  forget-me-nots, 
and  clambering  up  the  steep  hillside  where  the 
magic  witch-hazel  blooms  and  shoots  its  seeds  afar, 
I  made  my  way  cautiously  to  the  tree  from  which 
the  voice  came.  There,  high  over  my  head,  was 
another  scarlet  tanager.  He  was  evidently  a 
young  gentleman,  for  there  was  still  a  yellowish 
streak  across  his  breast,  but  he  sang  his  woodsy 
song  with  all  the  gusto  of  an  old  bass.  It  is 
loud  and  harsh,  but  in  a  rhythm  that,  as  it  has 


SCARLET  TANAGER.  149 

been  pertinently  expressed,  suggests  the  swinging 
of  a  pendulum.  Kree —  kree —  ee  —  kree —  eah 
kree  —  kree  —  ee  kree  —  eah  back  and  forth,  swing- 
ing a  little  further  each  time,  the  whole  song  often 
ending  with  an  emphatic  chip'  chirr. 

The  third  place  where  I  found  the  tanager  in 
Northampton  —  and  this  seemed  to  be  more  of  a 
true  haunt  —  was  at  Fort  Hill  on  the  south  of 
the  town,  where,  across  the  meadows,  Mount  Hoi- 
yoke  and  Mount  Tom  tower  majestically.  Here, 
on  a  sunny  eastern  hillside  that  looks  away  toward 
the  Connecticut,  the  early  adder  tongues  and  hepa- 
ticas  are  found,  and  the  scarlet  tanager  shows  a 
friendliness  that  becomes  the  beautiful  spot. 
Close  to  the  footpath  I  have  stood  and  watched 
him  without  exciting  the  least  suspicion  or  fear. 

Here  at  home  I  have  seen  one  of  the  tanagers 
in  an  ash  that  shades  the  house,  and  they  sing  in 
various  parts  of  our  woods.  Still,  I  feel  most 
sure  of  finding  them  in  a  swamp  back  of  the 
raspberry  patch.  While  a  botanical  friend  has 
been  looking  for  rare  orchids  among  the  moss  and 
ferns,  I  have  followed  one  of  the  handsome  birds 
through  the  length  of  the  swamp,  punctuating  his 
song  with  broken  bird  talk.  At  times,  as  I  stood 
on  an  old  moss-covered  log,  he  would  come  almost 
up  to  me,  and  then,  just  as  I  was  admiring  his 
flaming  coat,  would  fly  back  singing  to  himself 
the  loud  swinging  song  that  seemed  to  catch  new 
beauty  from  the  rich,  cool  verdure  of  the  swamp. 


150    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

Like  the  vireos,  although  the  tanagers  seem  to 
prefer  the  higher  branches  and  tree  tops  in  sing- 
ing and  hunting,  their  nest,  a  "  saucer  shaped 
structure,"  constructed  of  wiry  dead  grass-stems 
and  like  materials,  "  is  built  usually  on  a  low 
branch.  The  eggs  are  pale  bluish  or  greenish, 
spotted  or  speckled  with  brown." 

The  tanagers  belong  in  pigeon-hole  No.  5,  which 
is  marked  "tanagers,"  and  is  between  the  "finches, 
sparrows,  etc.,"  of  No.  4  and  the  swallows  of  No. 
6.  Unlike  the  flycatchers  and  sparrows  the  males 
are  brilliant  birds,  whose  plumage  varies  greatly 
with  the  season,  and  whose  plain  wives  are  in 
marked  contrast  to  them.  But  compare  their 
unobtrusive  ways  with  those  of  the  catbird,  the 
restless  kinglets,  chickadees,  and  blue  jays ;  and 
their  habits  with  those  of  the  ground-loving  oven- 
bird,  the  nuthatch,  snowbird,  and  partridge,  and 
you  will  see  that  the  difference  lies  deeper  than 
color. 

XLIII. 

BROWN    THRASHER. 

IN  a  Massachusetts  sand  flat,  where  nothing  but 
sand  burrs  and  low  scrubby  bushes  could  flourish, 
I  heard  my  first  thrasher  song.  There  were  a 
pair  of  birds  in  a  clump  of  bushes,  and  we  came 
up  within  a  few  yards  without  disturbing  them. 
Their  backs  were  rich  reddish-brown,  and  their 


BROWN   THRASHER.  151 

breasts   creamy  or    "buffy  white,"   spotted  with 
brown,  while  their  sides  were  heavily  streaked. 

The  thrashers  are  about  the  length  and  build  of 
the  cuckoos,  and  before  I  had  seen  them  near  by 
I  confused  the  two.  But  you  can  distinguish  be- 
tween them  even  at  a  distance,  for  the  breast  of 
the  cuckoos  is  pure  white,  while  that  of  the  thrash 
ers  is  heavily  spotted.  When  you  are  near  enough 
to  discern  shades,  you  see  that  the  rich  reddish- 
brown  back  of  the  thrasher  is  in  strong  contrast 
to  the  dull  grayish-brown  of  the  cuckoo.  While 
the  cuckoo  is  practically  songless,  the  song  of  the 
thrasher  is  excelled  by  few  of  our  birds,  combin- 
ing the  flexibility  of  the  catbird  with  the  sweetness 
of  the  thrush. 

The  thrasher  is  said  to  show  much  intelligence 
in  choosing  the  position  for  its  nest.  In  dry  sandy 
regions  it  seems  to  prefer  the  ground,  but  if  the 
soil  is  damp  or  clayey  it  builds  in  bushes ;  and 
along  river  banks  in  the  west,  where  sudden 
freshets  would  swamp  a  low  nest,  with  notable 
foresight  it  secures  its  nest  in  trees,  sometimes  as 
high  as  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  from  the  ground. 

During  migration,  last  fall,  I  was  looking  for 
warblers  in  the  raspberry  patch  one  morning  be- 
fore breakfast.  When  near  the  edge  of  the  woods 
I  heard  the  suppressed  shreea  a  gray  squirrel 
makes  when  scolding  between  its  teeth.  It  was 
so  near  that  I  looked  down  hoping  to  catch  sight 
of  the  impudent  bright  eyes,  but  not  a  squirrel 


152    BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

could  I  see.  A  flock  of  warblers  came  just  then 
to  take  my  attention,  and  it  was  some  time  before 
I  got  across  the  patch.  When  I  did,  what  was 
my  surprise  and  delight  to  find  a  brown  thrasher 
sitting  near  the  ground  on  a  drooping  bass-wood 
branch  in  the  midst  of  a  noisy  company  of  white- 
throats.  He  had  evidently  seen  me,  for  his  long 
tail  was  perked  up,  his  short  wings  hung  at  his 
sides,  and  he  looked  up  half  appealingly,  as  much 
as  to  say :  "  Oh  dear,  what  did  you  come  here 
for  ?  —  I  wish  you  would  n't  hurt  me !  —  I  sup- 
pose I  'd  better  hide,"  and  so  he  hopped  off  to 
another  branch,  looked  back,  saw  me  still  staring, 
and  disappeared. 

After  breakfast  I  came  back  to  the  spot.  Lis- 
tening closely  I  heard  the  squirrel-like  scold  that 
I  had  noticed  before  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
patch,  and  something  moving  on  the  leaves  under 
the  bushes  by  my  side.  What  was  this  mysterious 
creature  ?  Silently  I  turned  toward  it  and  gazed 
through  my  glass,  almost  holding  my  breath  to 
hear.  Again  came  the  noise,  and,  between  the 
leaves,  every  few  seconds  I  could  catch  sight  of  a 
brown  tail  wagging  up  and  down.  Suddenly, 
there  it  stood  in  full  view,  the  thrasher !  I  could 
see  even  his  yellow  eyes  !  He  was  only  three  or 
four  feet  away,  but  hopped  about  quite  uncon- 
cernedly until  I  made  myself  too  conspicuous ; 
then  he  vanished,  and  I  hunted  the  patch  over  for 
another  glimpse  of  him.  When  I  did  find  him, 


ROSE-BREASTED   GROSBEAK.  153 

he  was  sitting  quietly  on  the  top  of  a  small  stump. 
He  had  no  objection  to  make  to  me  then,  but 
when  Balder  began  stalking  around  among  the 
bushes  he  stretched  up  till  he  made  himself  look 
comically  like  a  long  narrow-necked  bottle,  when 
he  took  a  survey  and  departed. 


XLIV. 

ROSE-BREASTED   GROSBEAK. 

JUST  back  of  the  Smith  College  campus,  on 
the  bank  of  Mill  River,  where  the  catbird  talked 
to  himself  in  the  sunny  orchard,  the  handsome 
purple  finch  made  love  to  his  lady  bird,  and  the 
cuckoo  hid  away  among  the  leaves,  the  rose- 
breasted  grosbeak  used  to  stop  before  beginning 
housekeeping.  A  big  maple  in  one  corner  of  the 
orchard  by  the  river  was  his  favorite  cover,  but 
we  have  watched  him  sing  quite  fearlessly  in  a 
small  elm  on  the  outside  of  the  orchard,  close  to 
the  road. 

What  a  beauty  he  was  too !  He  wore  a  deco- 
rous glossy  black  coat  and  white  vest,  but  where 
his  black  choker  touched  his  shirt  front  —  was  it 
a  beautiful  pink  rose  he  had  fastened  on  to  catch 
the  eye  of  his  lady  ?  And  as  he  flew  past,  show- 
ing white  blotches  on  his  tail  and  at  its  base,  was 
that  rose  powder  with  which  he  had  touched  the 
under  side  of  his  wings  ?  His  wife  was  as  good 


154      BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

a  foil  to  him  as  her  cousins,  the  plain  little  pur- 
ple finch  and  indigo-bird  are  to  their  handsome 
husbands.  She  looked  decidedly  like  a  sparrow, 
and  had  patches  of  saffron-yellow  under  her 
wings,  where  the  male  had  carmine.  Both  had 
heavy  finch  bills.  His  was  yellow,  and  he  scraped 
it  on  the  side  of  a  branch  as  a  man  would  sharpen 
a  knife  on  a  whetstone  —  first  on  one  side  and 
then  on  the  other.  Perhaps  we  should  say,  men 
sharpen  their  knives  as  birds  do  their  bills,  for  it 
is  more  likely  that  the  birds  set  the  fashion ! 

The  song  of  the  grosbeak  is  loud,  clear,  and 
sweet,  with  a  rhythm  like  the  tanager's.  It  is 
a  longer  song,  however,  with  the  rough  edges 
rounded  oft7,  and  has,  moreover,  something  of  the 
oriole  quality.  The  call  note  is  as  characteristic 
as  the  chip  chirr  of  the  tanager.  It  is  a  thin, 
unsteady  kick,  and  usually  prefaces  the  song. 

The  nest  of  the  grosbeak  in  "  Paradise  "  was 
in  the  border  of  a  thicket,  almost  within  our 
reach,  and  when  we  discovered  it,  Mr.  Grosbeak's 
big  black  head  and  yellow  bill  were  protruding 
over  the  edge.  We  could  not  help  laughing  at 
this  domestic  turn,  he  looked  so  out  of  place ; 
but  we  liked  him  all  the  better  for  minding  the 
babies  while  his  wife  took  a  rest. 


WHIPPOOR  WILL.  —  WINTER    WREN.     155 

XLV. 

WHIPPOORWILL. 

IN  the  warm  summer  twilight  as  we  drive  along 
the  bank  of  Black  River,  watching  the  sunset 
glow  fade  in  the  west,  and  catching  its  glistening 
reflection  in  the  water,  over  the  low  foot-hills  of 
the  Adirondacks  on  the  east  comes  the  big  red 
harvest  moon.  Then,  as  we  stop  the  horses  to 
listen,  even  the  sibilant  whirr  of  the  locusts' 
wings  and  the  subdued  chirring  of  the  crickets 
are  hushed,  for  out  of  the  woods  comes  the  loud 
wild  call  —  whip-poor-will,  whip^yoor-will,  whip- 
poor-will. 

The  whippoorwill  belongs  to  the  family  of 
"goatsuckers,  swifts,  etc.,"  and  so  must  be  put 
in  the  drawer  where  the  chimney  swift,  humming- 
bird, partridge,  cuckoos,  woodpeckers,  and  all  the 
others  that  did  not  belong  to  the  order  of  "  perch- 
ing birds  "  were  left  by  themselves. 

XLVI. 

WINTER   WREN. 

ONE  October  day  when  the  raspberry  patch 
was  astir  with  fluttering  kinglets  and  warblers, 
and-  noisy  with  the  quarrying  of  white-throats, 
and  the  muttered  excuses  and  wait,  wait  of  tardy 


156      BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

crows  flying  hurriedly  over  to  the  caucus  in  the 
next  woods,  I  found  the  piquant  little  winter 
wrens  bobbing  about  among  the  bushes  oblivious 
to  everything  but  their  own  particular  business. 

I  gave  one  of  them  a  start  as  I  came  on  him 
unexpectedly,  and  so,  on  catching  sight  of  a  sec- 
ond, kept  cautiously  quiet.  But,  if  you  please, 
as  soon  as  he  got  a  glimpse  of  me,  the  inquisitive 
brown  sprite  came  hurrying  from  one  raspberry 
stem  to  another,  with  his  absurd  bit  of  a  square 
tail  over  his  back,  and  never  once  stopped  till  he 
got  near  enough  for  a  good  look.  There  he  clung, 
atilt  of  a  stem,  bobbing  his  plump  little  body 
from  side  to  side,  half  apologetically,  but  saying 
quip  with  an  air  that  assured  me  he  was  afraid  of 
no  giants,  however  big !  When  I  had  admired 
his  mottled,  dusky  vest  and  his  rusty  brown  coat 
with  its  fine  dusky  barring,  and  noted  the  light 
line  over  his  eye,  and  the  white  edging  of  his 
wing ;  and  when  he  had  decided  to  his  satisfac- 
tion what  I  was  doing  there  in  the  woods,  he  went 
hopping  along,  under  an  arching  fern,  off  to  the 
nearest  stump. 

When  they  are  out  hunting,  their  tails  standing 
over  their  backs,  their  necks  bent  forward  and 
their  straight  bills  sticking  out  ahead,  these  little 
wrens  have  a  most  determined  air!  First  you 
see  one  examining  the  sides  and  top  of  an  old 
stump,  running  about,  dipping  down  into  the  hol- 
low, and  then  flitting  off  among  the  bushes,  chat- 


WINTER    WREN.  157 

tering  quip-quap  as  lie  goes.  Then  one  flies 
against  the  side  of  a  tree  to  peck  at  a  promising 
bit  of  bark  and  clambers  several  feet  up  the 
trunk  to  show  what  a  good  gymnast  he  is  ;  and 
finally  one  pops  up  with  a  worm  in  his  mouth, 
shakes  it  well  before  eating,  and  afterwards  wipes 
his  bill  with  the  energy  characteristic  of  the  ac- 
tive, healthy  temper  of  the  whole  wren  family. 

On  the  twelfth  of  October  the  ground  was  cov- 
ered with  snow,  and  the  woods  were  so  white  and 
still  I  hardly  expected  to  find  anything  in  the 
raspberry  patch.  But  walking  through  I  discov- 
ered one  of  the  little  wrens,  as  active  and  busy  as 
ever.  As  I  stood  watching  him  he  climbed  into 
the  cosiest  cover  of  leaves  that  a  bush  ever  offered 
a  bird  for  shelter,  and  I  supposed  he  would  settle 
himself  to  wait  for  the  sun.  But  no !  he  exam- 
ined it  carefully,  turning  his  head  on  one  side 
and  then  the  other,  probably  thinking  it  would 
be  a  very  nice  place  for  some  tender  worm,  and 
then  flew  out  into  the  cold  snowy  bushes  again. 

On  the  twenty-second  of  the  month,  when  we 
had  had  a  still  heavier  fall  of  snow,  and  the 
wrens  found  it  too  cold  even  to  take  dinner  from 
a  golden-rod  stem,  one  of  the  confiding  little  birds 
came  to  hunt  on  the  piazza  right  in  front  of  my 
study  window.  You  should  have  seen  him  work  I 
He  ignored  the  crumbs  I  threw  out  for  him,  but 
flitted  about,  running  over  the  shrivelled  vines 
trained  over  the  piazza,  and  examining  all  the 


158      BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

cracks  and  crannies  where  a  fly  might  edge  itself 
into  the  moulding.  Once  he  dropped  a  worm, 
and  you  should  have  seen  him  come  tumbling 
down  after  it ! 

The  nest  of  this  brave  little  bird  is  snug  and 
warm,  made  of  moss,  lined  with  soft  feathers,  and 
lodged  "  in  crevices  of  dead  logs  or  stumps  in 
thick,  coniferous  woods."  What  a  pleasure  it 
would  be  to  follow  him  north,  and  study  all  his 
pretty  ways  in  the  dark  forest  home,  where  he 
furnishes  mirth  and  sunshine  all  the  summer 
through. 

The  wren  is  found  in  pigeon-hole  No.  10, 
along  with  his  cousins  the  thrasher  and  catbird. 
"Wrens,  thrashers,  etc.,''  is  on  the  door-plate  — 
perhaps  the  catbird  is  left  out  because  he  always 
takes  pains  to  announce  himself.  All  the  house- 
hold have  long  bills,  and  the  catbird  and  thrasher 
have  also  long  tails,  with  very  short  wings  ,  while 
they  all  have  a  piquant  way  of  perking  up  their 
tails  when  startled. 

In  contrast  to  the  vireos,  tanagers,  and  orioles, 
these  birds  spend  most  of  their  time  in  shrubs  or 
bushes  rather  than  in  higli  trees.  Different  birds 
take  various  levels  —  stories  in  their  out-of-doors 
house.  The  sparrows  and  chewinks  live  in  the 
basement  —  on  the  ground-floor;  the  wrens  and 
thrashers  on  the  first  floor  in  bushes  and  shrubs ; 
the  indigo-bird  on  the  third  floor  —  low  trees ; 
the  vireos  and  tanagers  and  orioles  on  the  fourth 


RED-HEADED    WOODPECKER.  159 

floor  —  high  trees  ;  while  the  swallows  and  swifts 
go  above  all  —  in  the  air. 


XLVH. 

RED-HEADED   WOODPECKER. 

THE  handsome  red-head  can  be  distinguished 
at  almost  any  distance  by  his  sharply  blocked 
"  tricolor  "  of  glossy  blue-black,  bright  crimson, 
and  clear  white.  Beginning  with  his  red  head, 
the  stripes  of  the  French  flag  are  reversed,  for 
the  order  is  not  red,  white,  and  blue,  but  red, 
blue  (black),  and  white.  Underneath  he  is  pure 
white.  Mr.  Burroughs  speaks  of  his  flitting 
about  the  open  woods,  "  connecting  the  trees  by 
a  gentle  arc  of  crimson  and  white !  " 

When  common,  the  red -headed  woodpecker 
may  be  found  everywhere,  —  in  the  orchards,  gar- 
dens, fields,  and  woods,  —  but  in  many  parts  of 
the  country  he  is  rather  rare.  He  is  an  erratic 
migrant,  his  residence  in  any  district  depending 
on  the  nut  supply  ;  so  that  you  may  not  see  him 
for  a  year  or  more  at  a  time. 

Like  the  California  woodpecker,  the  red-heads 
are  "  hoarders."  They  have  been  found  making 
a  business  of  storing  away  beech  nuts.  They 
would  hide  them  not  only  in  knot-holes,  between 
cracks  in  the  bark,  and  under  strips  of  loosened 
bark,  but  also  in  fence  posts,  railroad  ties,  and 


160    BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

between  shingles  on  the  roofs  of  houses ;  and  in 
several  instances  when  their  store-house  was  full, 
the  woodpeckers  would  take  the  precaution  to 
roof  it  over  with  a  layer  of  empty  hulls,  or  bits 
of  wood  and  bark. 


XLVTII. 

YELLOW-BELLIED   SAPSUCKER. 

IN  the  spring  the  yellow-bellied  woodpecker  is 
a  mercurial  Frenchman  compared  with  the  sober, 
self-contained  Englishmen,  his  cousins,  the  hairy 
and  downy.  They  contrast  as  scarlet  and  gray. 
Even  their  dress  marks  them.  The  hairy  and 
downy  are  robed  like  grave  philosophers  in  black 
and  white,  the  old  fathers  merely  donning  a  red 
cap  for  dignity.  But  though  the  sapsucker  has 
to  be  content  with  a  mottled  black  and  white  coat, 
besides  a  red  cap,  he  wears  a  crimson  frontlet,  a 
bib-shaped  piece  of  crimson  satin  fastened  close 
under  his  chin,  and  bordering  this  a  circlet  of 
black  satin,  below  which,  and  falling  to  his  feet, 
is  his  pale  yellow  robe. 

In  April  and  May,  especially  during  courting, 
the  air  is  full  of  his  boisterous  cries.  In  the  edge 
of  the  woods,  in  the  orchard,  by  the  side  of  the 
house,  the  excited  birds  flicker  from  tree  to  tree, 
chasing  each  other  about.  Sometimes  two  of 
them  march  up  opposite  sides  of  the  same  tree, 


YELLOW-BELLIED  SAPSUCKER.         161 

with  arching  necks  and  rapid,  taunting  cries  of 
chuck'ah,  chuck'ah,  chuck' ah,  chuck' ah,  and  then 
circle  around  the  trunk  after  each  other  like  a 
pair  of  hot-headed  suitors  quarrelling  over  their 
lady-love.  When  they  are  in  a  calmer  mood  their 
cry,  though  still  emphatic,  loses  much  of  its  taunt- 
ing tone,  and  is  more  like  che  whee',  che  whee', 
che  whee',  che  whee'.  They  have  a  variety  of  call 
notes,  such  as  kree,  Jcray ;  yah',  yah',  and  kre'  ah, 
all  full  of  spirited  emphasis.  But  their  ebullient 
feelings  cannot  be  expressed  in  that  way ;  they 
must  needs  take  to  drumming  and  tinning.  I 
quote  from  an  account  of  their  performances  pub- 
lished ten  years  ago  by  my  brother,  Dr.  C.  Hart 
Merriam.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  their 
habits  have  not  changed  in  that  time.  He  says : 
"At  this  season  scarcely  an  hour  passes  from 
daylight  to  sunset  that  one  or  more  cannot  be 
heard  drumming  with  commendable  perseverance 
upon  the  tin-roofs,  eave-troughs,  or  escape-pipes 
of  our  house  or  some  of  the  out-buildings.  They 
strike  the  tin  violently  half  a  dozen  or  more  times, 
evidently  enjoying  the  sound  thus  produced,  and 
then  rest  a  few  minutes  before  repeating  the  per- 
formance. Each  woodpecker  usually  returns  to 
the  same  spot,  and  on  our  roof  are  several  patches 
the  size  of  one's  hand,  from  which  the  paint  has 
been  entirely  drummed  off.  On  the  escape-pipe 
they  sometimes  follow  around  a  joint,  and  by  con- 
stant and  long-continued  pounding  so  loosen  the 


162    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

solder  that  the  dependent  portion  of  the  pipe  falls 
down.  How  they  manage  to  cling  to  these  verti- 
cal pipes  and  the  nearly  perpendicular  portions  of 
the  roof  is  a  mystery.  I  have  seen  both  sexes 
at  work  on  our  roof,  but  the  female  does  not 
often  indulge  in  this  pastime,  and  is  rarely  ob- 
served to  take  part  in  the  boisterous  gambols 
of  the  males.  In  the  groves  and  forests  where 
tin-roofed  buildings  do  not  abound,  the  yellow- 
bellied  woodpeckers  amuse  themselves  by  pound- 
ing upon  such  dry  hollow  trees  and  hard  resonant 
limbs  as  multiply  the  sound  tenfold,  so  that  one 
can  at  a  distance  readily  distinguish  them  from 
other  members  of  the  family." 

The  name  "sapsucker"  is  more  appropriately 
applied  to  the  yellow-bellied  woodpecker  than  to 
the  nuthatch,  for  instead  of  taking  an  occasional 
taste  of  the  sap  at  the  sugar-bush  in  spring,  he 
spends  much  of  his  time  riddling  live  trees  with 
squarish  holes,  to  which  he  returns  to  drink  the 
oozing  sap  and  feast  upon  the  insects  that  gather. 

The  woodpeckers,  I  have  noticed,  all  work  in 
about  the  same  way,  varying  their  methods  to  suit 
the  character  of  the  wood.  The  only  time  I  ever 
watched  the  sapsucker  drill  a  maple  he  worked 
like  the  hairy,  first  giving  a  dozen  or  more  quick 
blows  with  his  head  turned  on  one  side,  and  then 
as  many  more  with  his  head  on  the  other  side  — 
just  as  a  carpenter  chisels,  cutting  out  a  wedge 
instead  of  going  straight  down.  After  working 


GREAT-CRESTED  FLYCATCHER.  163 

in  this  way  for  a  time,  he  seemed  to  pick  out  bits 
of  wood  —  his  shavings  —  and  drop  them  to  the 
ground.  When  tired  working  at  one  hole  he 
would  go  on  to  another.  The  bark  was  torn  from 
an  area  of  several  inches,  and  this  was  riddled 
with  holes  apparently  in  process  of  making.  The 
woodpeckers  are  not  perching  birds,  and  so  must 
be  put  in  the  drawer  with  the  kingfisher,  cuckoo, 
humming-birds,  and  others.  Of  the  five  we  have 
had,  the  yellow  hammer  is  the  least  of  a  wood- 
pecker, building  comparatively  low,  having  a  trill 
that  takes  the  place  of  a  song,  hunting  on  the 
ground  and  fences  as  well  as  on  trees  for  his  food, 
and,  accordingly,  assuming  an  earth-colored  dis- 
guise that  would  be  of  little  use  to  the  other 
woodpeckers.  The  sapsucker  and  the  yellow 
hammer  go  south  for  the  winter,  but  the  downy 
and  hairy  are  permanent  residents,  while  the  red- 
headed woodpecker's  presence  is  entirely  depen- 
dent on  the  food  supply.  The  sapsucker  is  the 
most  boisterous  of  the  five  —  the  sombre  hairy 
and  downy  the  most  silent.  Of  them  all  the  red- 
head is  the  family  beauty. 

XLIX. 

GREAT-CRESTED   FLYCATCHER. 

IN  spring,  when  a  loud  piercing  whistle  comes 
shrilling  from  the  woods  — one  note  given  in  ris- 


164    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

ing  inflection  —  I  know  that  the  great-crested  fly- 
catcher has  arrived.  There  is  always  an  excite- 
ment about  the  event  that  prompts  you  to  seize 
your  hat  and  rush  out  to  find  him.  And  a  sight 
of  him  up  in  a  tree  top  is  worth  more  than  one 
walk! 

By  the  side  of  the  other  flycatchers  in  pigeon- 
hole No.  1,  he  stands  at  the  head  of  the  family. 
What  an  aristocratic  bearing  his  great  crest  gives 
him !  And  look  at  his  olive  coat,  his  ash-gray  vest, 
and  his  bright  sulphur  -  yellow  knickerbockers  ! 
You  almost  expect  him  to  produce  wig  and  shoe- 
buckles  !  Then  compare  his  manners  with  those 
of  his  plain  gray  cousins.  Do  you  suppose  he 
could  let  his  wings  and  his  fine  rufous  tail  hang 
down  as  the  least  flycatcher,  the  phcebe,  and  the 
wood  pewee  do  ?  And  could  such  a  dignified  bird 
demean  himself  with  the  petty  bickerings  of  the 
kingbird,  or  the  recklessness  of  the  warlike  least 
flycatcher  ? 

The  great-crest  flies  restlessly  among  the  tree 
tops,  uttering  his  shrill  cry,  and  soliloquizing  in  a 
low  warbling  twitter.  He  also  has  a  loud  short 
chatter  reserved  for  occasion,  and  I  have  seen  him 
on  a  tree  by  the  house  scolding  away  with  a  whee 
ree. 

His  nest  shows  all  the  eccentricity  of  genius. 
It  is  usually  made  in  a  knot-hole,  at  varying 
heights  from  the  ground.  But  the  strangest  thing 
about  it,  and  that  which  distinguishes  it  from  the 


BANK  SWALLOW.  165 

nests  of  all  other  North  American  birds,  is  the 
remarkable  fact  that  cast-off  snake  skins  are  used 
in  its  construction.  This  is  true  even  in  localities 
where  snakes  are  so  uncommon  that  an  ordinary 
person  may  spend  a  lifetime  without  finding  one 
of  their  skins.  Surely  the  birds  must  possess  keen 
eyes  and  much  local  knowledge  of  *the  haunts  of 
the  snakes  when  the  shedding  process  is  going  on ! 
Mrs.  Treat  tells  of  a  pair  of  great-crested  fly- 
catchers that  built  in  a  bird-house  on  top  of  the 
stable.  First,  she  says,  they  go  to  all  the  bird- 
houses  "  scattered  about  on  the  posts "  in  the 
vineyard,  but  as  we  would  expect  of  such  aristo- 
crats, choose  "  the  finest  establishment  on  the 
premises  —  a  three -storied,  octagon  house,  sur- 
mounted with  a  cupola  and  spire,  with  a  weather 
vane  and  ball  attached."  Though  a  pair  of  blue- 
birds have  kept  all  would-be  tenants  away  for 
several  years,  they  offer  no  resistance  to  the  fly- 
catchers, who  settle  in  the  empty  cupola. 

L. 
BANK  SWALLOW;  SAND  MARTIN. 

LIKE  the  kingfisher  the  bank  swallow  excavates 
a  hole  for  his  nest,  and  when  you  are  driving 
through  cuts  in  sand  or  clay  banks  you  will  often 
see  the  birds  pop  out  of  their  holes  in  the  sides 
and  fly  off  up  in  the  air.  They  are  the  plainest 


166    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

of  our  common  swallows,  being  dead  grayish-brown 
above  and  white  below,  with  a  band  of  grayish- 
brown  across  the  breast,  so  that  vanity  does  not 
interfere  with  their  underground  life. 


LI. 

EAVE   SWALLOW  ;    CLIFF   SWALLOW. 

THE  cliff  swallow  is  the  common  swallow  that 
we  constantly  see  on  telegraph  wires  and  about 
barns  in  company  with  the  barn  swallow.  It  is 
easy  enough  to  distinguish  between  them,  because 
the  tail  of  the  eave,  instead  of  being  deeply  forked, 
is  almost  square  ;  its  back,  instead  of  being  glossy 
steel-blue,  is  dull  blackish,  and  it  also  lacks  the 
steel-blue  collar. 

The  nest  of  the  cliff  swallow  is  "a  gourd  or 
retort-shaped  structure  composed  of  pellets  of  mud 
mixed  with  a  few  straws  and  lined  with  soft  feath- 
ers, attached  to  the  face-  of  overhanging  cliffs  or 
underneath  the  eaves  of  buildings." 

LII. 

CROSSBILLS. 

IN  November,  1887,  one  of  the  commonest  sounds 
heard  on  my  walks  was  an  odd  metallic  Idmp, 
kimp,  kimp,  coming  from  a  flock  of  crossbills  far 


CROSSBILLS.  167 

up  in  the  air.  They  were  often  so  high  that  I 
could  not  see  them,  and  one  day  several  flocks 
passed  over  my  head,  affording  only  a  glimpse  of 
black  dots  for  them  all.  Their  note  often  came 
from  the  hemlocks  back  in  the  woods,  and  on 
Thanksgiving  morning  I  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  the  noisy  strangers. 

They  had  come  out  in  the  clearing,  and  lighted 
near  a  milk-house,  some  on  a  tree  and  others  on 
the  ground.  I  crept  up  as  noiselessly  as  the  crusty 
snow  would  allow,  and,  screening  myself  behind 
another  building,  watched  them  for  some  time. 
They  seemed  nervous,  for  every  few  minutes  they 
started  up  simultaneously  with  a  whirr,  flew  about 
a  few  seconds,  and  then  settled  down  again. 

When  they  were  resting,  those  that  were  not 
chattering  warbled  to  themselves  in  a  sweet  under- 
tone, but  when  a  new  company  joined  their  ranks 
they  all  began  jabbering,  and  it  was  a  grave  ques- 
tion if  any  of  them  could  hear  what  they  were 
asking,  or  their  neighbors  trying  to  tell.  Then  as 
they  broke  up  into  groups  and  went  wheeling 
about  in  the  air,  the  glittering  gilt  deer  weather- 
vane  on  top  of  a  barn  a  few  rods  away  attracted 
them,  and  some  of  them  lit  on  the  horns  a  mo- 
ment in  passing.  Several  squads  of  them  flew 
away,  and  as  the  confusion  decreased  the  others 
grew  less  restless,  and  twenty  or  thirty  flew  down 
under  the  milk-house  door  and  began  picking  up 
what  they  could  find  on  the  stones. 


168      BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

Such  a  mixture  of  colors !  The  old  gentlemen 
were  the  handsomest,  being  some  shade  of  red, 
while  their  wives  and  children  were  olivaceous  or 
grayish.  They  seemed  like  a  shifting  kaleido- 
scope of  colors,  as  they  hopped  about  busily  hunt- 
ing for  food. 

Among  them  were  a  few  of  their  cousins,  the 
pine  finches,  and  I  thought  I  heard  some  gold- 
finches with  those  that  passed  over.  I  got  the 
pretty  visitors  a  basket  of  grain,  and  scattered  it 
on  the  crust  for  them,  but  they  seemed  to  prefer 
cone  seeds,  for  they  soon  flew  over  to  the  spruces. 

Unmindful  of  the  laws  of  adaptation  of  which 
these  bills  are  such  an  interesting  example,  the 
legend  accounts  for  them  in  its  own  beautiful  way. 
It  has  it  that  the  birds  tried  to  pull  the  nails  from 
the  cross,  and  in  doing  so  twisted  their  bills  in 
such  a  way  that  wherever  they  go  they  will  always 
bear  the  symbol  of  their  merciful  deed. 

The  crossbills  are  very  erratic  in  habit,  and 
wander  over  large  areas  where  they  do  not  remain 
to  build.  They  nest  throughout  the  coniferous 
forests  of  the  northern  United  States  and  Canada, 
and  in  mountains  of  the  Southern  States,  notably 
in  North  Carolina,  Tennessee,  and  Kentucky. 

A  curious  example  of  this  bird's  fondness  for 
salt  is  recorded  by  Mr.  Romeyn  B.  Hough.  An 
old  ice-cream  freezer,  after  becoming  permeated 
with  salt,  was  thrown  out  where  the  crossbills  had 
access  to  it,  and  throughout  the  winter  flocks  of 


NIGHT-HA  WK.  169 

the  birds  came  to  it,  like  deer  to  a  saltlick.  They 
were  so  eager  that,  in  some  places,  they  actually 
nibbled  almost  through  the  wood  until,  as  Mr. 
Hough  says,  the  freezer  looked  as  if  mice  had 
been  gnawing  it. 


LIII. 
NIGHT-HAWK;  BULL  BAT. 

JUST  at  twilight,  above  the  chippering  of  the 
chimney  swifts,  you  will  often  hear  sharp  cries 
that  startle  you  into  looking  overhead.  Circling 
in  the  air  after  insects  you  will  see  large,  dark 
colored  birds,  with  narrow,  clear  cut,  crescent 
shaped  wings  and  slender  bodies.  If  they  come 
near  enough  you  will  catch  the  white  bars  on  their 
wings  as  they  fly  rapidly  by.  If  your  eyes  and 
glass  are  both  good  perhaps  you  will  get  a  glimpse 
of  their  curious  great  mouths,  wide  open  as  they 
fly ;  and  then  the  mysterious  disappearance  of  the 
swarms  of  insects  that  hover  in  the  air  will  be 
picturesquely  explained. 

A  study  of  bills  would  be  as  suggestive  as  in- 
teresting. With  each  group,  as  we  have  seen,  the 
form  is  modified  to  suit  the  needs  of  the  birds,  — 
the  woodpeckers  have  long  strong  bills  for  ham- 
mering and  excavating ;  the  sparrows  short  stout 
cones  for  seed  cracking ;  the  vireos  long  slender 
bills  for  holding  worms ;  and  the  flycatchers  bills 


170    BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

hooked  at  the  end  for  holding  insects ;  but  per- 
haps the  most  extreme  cases  of  adaptation  are  to 
be  found  in  those  of  the  kingfisher,  humming- 
bird, crossbill,  and  night-hawk.  In  the  night- 
hawk  and  whippoorwill  the  enormous  fish-trap  of 


the  kingfisher  is  exchanged  for  —  almost  no  bill 
at  all,  merely  a  hook  and  eye  for  a  wide  gaping 
mouth. 

The  night-hawk  and  whippoorwill  are  the  most 
nearly  related  of  the  four  birds  we  have  from  the 
order  of  "goatsuckers,  swifts,  etc."  They  are 
both  brown-mottled  birds,  and  are  similar  in  build 
and  general  habit.  The  swifts  resemble  the  night- 
hawks  in  having  narrow  clear  cut  wings,  small 
bills,  and  big  mouths,  but  in  habit  they  are  almost 


GRASS  FINCH.  171 

as  unlike  them  as  the  humming-bird.  All  four 
birds  have  strong  wings,  however,  and  so,  as  a 
group,  contrast  with  the  sparrows  in  No.  4,  and 
the  wrens  and  thrashers  in  No.  10. 


LIV. 

GRASS    FINCH  ;    VESPER    SPARROW  ;    BAY-WINGED 
BUNTING. 

WHEN  riding  in  the  country  it  is  well  to  carry 
your  opera-glass  and  examine  the  birds  you  find 
on  the  fences  along  the  road.  Sparrows  are  very 
common,  and  if  you  see  one  running  along  the 
fence  ahead  of  you,  whose  streaked  back  seems 
too  light  for  a  song  sparrow,  you  will  do  well  to 
watch  him  closely.  When  he  flies  up,  if  you  see 
white  tail  feathers,  you  know  who  your  friend  is 
at  once  ;  the  meadow-lark  and  the  grass  finch  are 
two  of  the  commonest  of  the  few  white  tail-feath- 
ered birds.  His  white  breast  and  sides  are  streak- 
ed, and  the  markings  on  his  back  almost  give  the 
effect  of  stripes.  But  the  chestnut-brown  on  his 
wings  and  his  white  tail  feathers  are  enough  to 
distinguish  him  among  the  sparrows.  His  song 
resembles  that  of  the  song  sparrow,  but  while  it 
wants  the  cheery  brightness  we  love  in  that,  its 
plaintive  element  gives  it  a  richness  which  the 
other  lacks. 

The  grass  finch  is  a  timorous  little  bird,  and  his 


172    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

interest  in  the  genus  Homo  seems  to  be  confined 
to  the  people  who  pass  along  the  road.  These 
appear  to  fascinate  him,  and  it  is  always  with  re- 
luctance that  he  flies  away  before  them.  A  grass 
finch  he  certainly  is.  He  nests  in  the  grass,  hops 
about  in  the  grass,  lives  upon  seeds  he  finds  in  the 
grass,  and  rarely  gets  much  farther  away  than  a 
roadside  fence,  or  a  tree  that  is  surrounded  by 
grass. 

LV. 

TREE    SPARROW. 

THE  tree  sparrows  look  much  like  their  cousin 
chippy,  but  have  something  of  the  free  mountain 
air  and  pine-tree  atmosphere  about  them  that  the 
domestic  chippy  lacks. 

I  find  them  in  spring  and  fall  along  the  edge  of 
the  woods,  or  in  the  fields,  eating  grass  seed ;  and 
a  flock  of  them  spent  last  April  with  us,  sing- 
ing with  the  fox  sparrows  in  the  evergreens,  and 
coming  about  the  house  in  the  most  friendly  man- 
ner. Indeed  the  lordly  little  creatures  quite  took 
possession  of  the  corn  boxes  in  front  of  the  dining- 
room  window,  and  drove  off  the  j  uncos  with  a  sad 
show  of  temper.  I  forgave  them,  however,  for  I 
had  a  capital  chance  to  observe  them  while  they 
were  eating  the  buckwheat. 

Chippy,  you  know,  has  a  way  of  crouching  close 
to  the  ground.  The  tree  sparrows,  on  the  con- 


WHITE-CROWNED   SPARROW.  173 

trary,  are  erect,  dignified  looking  birds,  and  raise 
their  dark  rufous  caps  with  much  more  effect  than 
chippy  ever  does.  They  differ  from  him,  too,  in 
having  the  lower  part  of  their  backs  unstriped,  in 
having  rusty  washings  on  the  sides  of  their  ashy 
breasts,  and  a  dusky  spot  in  the  centre  of  the 
breast  similar  to  the  song  sparrow's  breastpin. 
Their  song,  though  thinner  than  that  of  the  song 
sparrow,  is  sweet  and  pleasing. 


LVL 

WHITE-CROWNED    SPARROW. 

DURING  migration  the  white-crowns  generally 
keep  by  themselves,  though  sometimes  they  may 
be  seen  in  flocks  of  white-throated  sparrows,  so  it 
is  well  to  inspect  each  bird  carefully.  The  crown 
will  enable  you  to  discriminate  between  them,  for 
in  the  white-crown  the  marking  gives  more  the 
effect  of  a  soldier's  cap,  the  bands  of  clear  white 
encircling  the  back  of  the  head.  This  adds  to 
the  distinguished  air  of  the  bird,  which,  with  his 
clearer  grays  and  browns,  his  more  shapely  figure 
and  erect  carriage,  soon  become  enough  to  mark 
him  in  themselves.  For,  as  the  great-crested  fly- 
catcher overshadows  the  plebeian  phcebe,  the 
white  -  crowned  sparrow  is  the  aristocrat  of  his 
family.  But  besides  all  this  he  lacks  the  yellow 
seen  on  the  head  of  the  white-throat,  and  the 


174      BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

median  white-crown  stripe  that  separates  the  two 
black  lines  is  broader  than  in  the  white-throat. 
His  chin,  too,  is  less  markedly  white. 

The  song  of  the  two  sparrows  is  entirely  differ- 
ent. The  white-throat's  is  a  plaintive  whistle,  both 
rich  and  sweet,  while  the  white  -  crowned  has  a 
comparatively  low,  commonplace  song,  something 
like  — 

r  f  r  ,  r  t 

1      v 

whe  -  he  -  he  -  he  -  hee  -  lie 


LVII. 

FIELD  SPARROW;   BUSH  SPARROW. 

MR.  BURROUGHS  calls  the  bush  sparrow  chip^ 
py's  "  country  cousin,"  and  when  you  have  once 
seen  him  you  will  agree  that  no  detail  could  de- 
scribe him  as  well.  Instead  of  having  a  smooth 
tight  fitting  coat,  his  feathers  are  ruffled  up  care- 
lessly while  the  clear  ashy  breast  of  chippy  is  re- 
placed by  a  rusty  one,  and  his  cap  is  much  duller. 
Altogether  his  appearance  is  thoroughly  rustic. 
But  he  has  not  only  these  external  marks  of  the 
country  cousin.  Chippy  is  eminently  sophisti- 
cated, and  assumes  "  airs,"  and  indulges  in  petu- 
lance that  is  foreign  to  the  kindly  sparrow  race. 
The  little  bush  sparrow,  however,  is  a  pleasing 
contrast.  He  has  a  genuine,  simple  nature,  and 


FOX  SPARROW.  175 

when  he  sings  his  sweet  song  wins  your  friendship 
on  the  spot.  But  he  has  one  habit  that  exasper- 
ates an  observer.  There  is  a  field  of  low  bushes 
on  the  north  side  of  "  Paradise,"  and  I  have  chased 
after  him  through  it  until  I  quite  forgot  that  he 
had  any  virtues!  No  sooner  would  I  hear  his 
song,  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  brown  back,  and  creep 
up  softly  within  opera-glass  range,  than  lo !  there 
he  would  be  hopping  about  singing  from  a  bush  a 
rod  away ! 


Lvm. 

FOX   SPARROW. 

IN  the  spring  of  1887  the  fox  sparrows  were 
here  for  some  time,  coming  occasionally  to  eat 
buckwheat  on  the  corn  boxes  with  the  tree  spar- 
rows and  juncos.  They  were  large,  fat  birds, 
strikingly  bluish-slate  about  the  head,  and  rich 
reddish-brown  on  the  wings,  lower  part  of  back, 
and  tail.  The  centres  of  the  breast  markings 
were  set  in  an  ochraceous  suffusion. 

They  came  to  the  boxes  much  more  timidly 
than  the  other  birds,  slipping  in  quietly  for  a  few 
mouthfuls,  as  if  afraid  of  being  seen.  But  they 
made  themselves  at  home  in  the  saplings  on  the 
edge  of  the  woods  right  back  of  the  house,  singing 
in  the  sun  quite  fearlessly,  even  when  I  was  walk- 
ing about  on  the  crust,  staring  at  them  through 


176     BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

my  glass,  and  taking  liberties  with  their  mother 
tongue.  Their  song  resembled  that  of  the  song 
sparrow  in  arrangement  of  note,  but  was  richer, 
and  had  a  plaintive  cast. 


LIX. 

BROWN   CREEPER. 

AT  last  we  have  a  bird  to  put  into  our  empty 
pigeon-hole,  No.  2, —  the  "creepers."  Like  the 
"thrashers  and  wrens"  in  No.  10, his  prevailing- 
color  is  brown,  and  he  has  a  long  slender  bill, 
while  he  resembles  the  nuthatch  —  his  neighbor 
in  $o.  12  —  in  habits.  In  his  way,  however,  the 
brown  creeper  is  a  unique  bird.  He  is  so  nearly 
the  color  of  the  brown  bark  of  the  trees  you 
often  overlook  him  as  he  goes  rocking  up  their 
sides.  When  pecking  at  the  bark  he  looks  even 
more  convex  than  the  yellow  hammer ;  for  besides 
the  curve  given  by  his  tail  as  he  braces  himself 
by  it,  and  the  continuing  curve  of  his  back  as  he 
bends  forward,  his  bill  is  long  and  curved,  thus 
completing  the  arc. 

He  is  a  systematic  workman,  going  over  his 
ground  in  a  painstaking  fashion,  sometimes  even 
flitting  back  a  few  feet  to  examine  a  piece  of  moss 
over  again.  He  usually  begins  at  the  bottom  of 
a  tree  and  works  up,  sometimes  circling,  at  others 
flitting  up,  and  again  rocking  straight  up  the 


BROWN  CREEPER.  177 

side.  He  nests  as  close  to  the  heart  of  the  tree  as 
he  can  get,  little  brown  wood  sprite  that  he  is, 
creeping  under  a  bit  of  loosened  bark,  or  getting 
into  some  cranny  of  the  sort,  that  he  can  fit  up 
for  his  white  eggs  with  felt  and  feathers. 


WARBLERS. 


WHEN  you  begin  to  study  the  warblers  you  will 
probably  conclude  that  you  know  nothing  about 
birds,  and  can  never  learn.  But  if  you  begin  by 
recognizing  their  common  traits,  and  then  study 
a  few  of  the  easiest,  and  those  that  nest  in  your 
locality,  you  will  be  less  discouraged ;  and  when 
the  flocks  come  back  at  the  next  migration  you 
will  be  able  to  master  the  oddities  of  a  larger 
number.  They  belong  in  pigeon-hole  No.  9,  —  la- 
belled "  wood  warblers,"  and  are  a  marked  family. 

Most  of  them  are  very  small  —  much  less  than 
half  the  size  of  a  robin  —  and  are  not  only  short 
but  slender.  Active  as  the  chickadee  or  kinglet, 
they  flit  about  the  trees  and  undergrowth  after 
insects,  without  charity  for  the  observer  who  is 
trying  to  make  out  their  markings.  Unlike  the 
waxwing,  whose  quiet  ways  are  matched  by  its 
subdued  tints,  or  the  uniformly  coated  kinglets  or 
the  greenlets  in  the  pigeon-hole  next  to  them,  as 
a  group,  the  warblers  are  dashed  with  all  the  glo- 
ries of  the  rainbow,  a  flock  of  them  looking  as  if 
a  painter's  palette  had  been  thrown  at  them.  You 
can  see  no  philosophy  or  poetry  in  the  bewilder- 


SUMMER   YELLOW-BIRD.  179 

ing  combinations,  and  when  you  find  that  they 
differ  entirely  with  age  and  sex,  you  despair  of 
ever  knowing  them. 

Why  they  should  be  called  warblers  is  a  puzzle, 
as  a  large  percentage  of  them  have  not  as  much 
song  as  chippy  —  nothing  but  a  thin  chatter,  or  a 
shrill  piping  trill.  If  you  wish  a  negative  concep- 
tion of  them,  think  of  the  coloring  and  habits  of 
the  cuckoo.  No  contrast  could  be  more  complete. 
The  best  places  to  look  for  them  during  migration 
are  young  trees,  orchards,  and  sunny  slopes.  Here 
I  find  them  in  old  orchards,  swamps,  the  rasp- 
berry patch,  and  the  edge  of  the  woods.  In 
Northampton  they  showed  an  annoying  fondness 
for  pine-tree  tops,  but  atoned  for  it  by  giving  us 
the  best  views  of  them  in  the  orchards  and  on  the 
steep  bank  of  Mill  River. 


LX. 

SUMMER  YELLOW-BIRD  ;   GOLDEN  WARBLER  ;  YEL- 
LOW  WARBLER. 

IF  you  have  caught  glimpses  of  this  little  war- 
bler building  in  your  orchard  or  the  shrubbery  of 
your  garden,  you  may  have  wondered  about  his 
relation  to  the  other  yellow-bird  —  the  goldfinch. 
But  when  you  look  at  them  critically  you  will  find 
the  two  entirely  distinct.  The  goldfinch  dons  a 
bright  canary  suit,  set  off  by  black  cap,  wings, 


180     BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

and  tail.  The  summer  yellow-bird,  on  the  con- 
trary,  wears  heavier  yellow,  and  is  not  only  with- 
out the  contrasting  black,  but  looks  dull  from  the 
"  obsolete  "  brown  streaks  on  his  vest.  The  gold- 
finch is  a  larger  bird,  and,  as  he  lives  on  seeds 
rather  than  insects,  has  the  thick  finch  bill  instead 
of  the  fine  one  of  the  warbler.  On  the  wing,  at 
a  distance,  the  peculiar  curved  undulating  flight 
of  the  goldfinch  marks  him ;  and  when  you  are 
near  enough  to  hear  him  sing,  you  will  find  that 
his  canary-like  song  is  totally  unlike  the  warbler 
trill  of  the  summer  yellow-bird. 

One  spring  we  discovered  a  golden  warbler's 
nest  in  the  top  of  an  apple-tree  in  the  old  North- 
ampton orchard,  near  the  nest  a  song  sparrow  had 
built  at  the  bottom  of  a  brush  heap,  and  the  loose 
bunch  of  twigs  the  catbirds  had  patched  up  with 
newspaper  in  an  apple-tree  crotch.  Perhaps  the 
little  bird  thought  its  persistent  enemy,  Madam 
Cowbird,  would  be  less  likely  to  visit  its  nest  if 
other  mother  birds  were  on  the  watch  near  by  — 
for  the  golden  warbler  is  the  bird  spoken  of  as 
having  had  to  build  three  stories  to  rid  itself  of 
the  cowbird's  eggs. 

LXI. 

REDSTART. 

THE  long  tail  of  the  redstart  makes  him  appear 
about  the  size  of  a  chipping  bird.  In  habits, 


REDSTART.  181 

however,  he  is  more  like  the  flycatchers  than  the 
sparrows.  Indeed,  you  might  imagine  that  it  was 
from  his  flycatcher-like  way  of  starting  up  or  fall- 
ing through  the  air  unexpectedly  that  he  got  his 
name ;  for  then  you  can  see  the  blotches  of  rich 
salmon  that  mark  his  wings  and  tail.  However 
this  may  be,  the  rest  of  his  plumage  is  as  striking 
as  his  tail.  His  back  is  glossy  black,  and  each 
side  of  his  white  breast  is  ornamented  with  a 
patch  of  bright  salmon  or  red.  The  female,  as 
usual,  is  plainer  than  her  spouse  —  has  no  black 
on  her  breast,  is  olivaceous  above,  and  light  yel- 
low where  the  male  is  salmon.  The  young  birds 
are  like  their  mother,  only  browner  above.  As 
the  young  males  begin  to  put  in  coat  or  vest  a 
patch  or  a  gore  of  their  father's  colors,  they  get 
a  ludicrously  motley  look ;  and  when  they  finally 
come  out  in  the  full  handsome  suit  of  black  and 
red,  you  imagine  them  as  proud  as  the  college 
senior  with  his  silk  hat. 

Like  the  flycatchers,  the  redstarts  are  fluffy 
birds  and  sit  with  drooping  wings.  But  they 
show  warbler  blood  by  the  mad  way  they  career 
about,  opening  and  shutting  their  tails  fan-fash- 
ion, turning  somersaults,  flitting  from  branch  to 
branch,  stopping  a  second  to  give  a  little  burst  of 
song,  and  then  fluttering  around  again ;  chasing 
helter-skelter  among  the  bushes ;  and  suddenly 
falling  through  the  leaves  as  if  they  had  been  shot, 
only  to  snap  up  their  prey  and  dart  off  to  begin 
their  gambols  over  again. 


182    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

They  are  winning,  friendly  little  things,  and 
make  pretty  nests  of  fine  roots,  birch  bark,  and 
flower  cotton,  or  some  such  dainty  material.  Ac- 
cording to  individual  taste,  they  build  in  apple- 
tree  crotches,  low  roadside  bushes,  or  in  saplings 


in  open  woods.  In  "  Paradise  "  one  once  built  in 
a  loop  of  grape-vine  by  the  river,  and  when  her 
gray  nest  was  nearly  finished  she  had  a  pretty 
way  of  sitting  inside  and  leaning  over  the  edge  to 
smooth  the  outside  with  her  bill  and  neck,  as  if 
she  were  moulding  it.  The  redstarts  take  good 
care  to  select  bark  the  color  of  the  tree,  and  in 
that  way  defy  any  but  the  keenest  scrutiny.  A 
little  housewife  will  sometimes  fly  to  her  nest 
with  strips  of  bark  four  inches  long  streaming 
from  her  bill. 

The  redstart's  song  is  a  fine,  hurried  warbler 


REDSTART.  183 

trill  that  he  accents  on  the  end  as  if  glad  it  was 
done. 

t    '   t    '   !   f   $   t   t 

Te-ka-te-ka-te-ka-te-ka-  took*. 

One  morning  as  I  was  watching  a  young  hairy 
woodpecker,  the  solicitude  of  a  redstart  diverted 
me.  Keeping  up  a  nervous,  worried  cry,  she  eyed 
me  from  all  sides,  and  when  I  moved,  followed 
me  in  such  a  significant  way  that  when  I  had 
looked  through  the  crotches  for  her  nest  without 
finding  it,  I  concluded  the  young  were  out.  Fa- 
ther Redstart,  —  a  young  male  with  the  scarlet 
just  appearing  on  the  sides  of  his  breast,  —  mean- 
while, showed  about  as  much  paternal  anxiety  as 
Mr.  Indigo  on  similar  occasions.  Suddenly  I  es- 
pied one  of  the  baby  birds,  a  wee  scrawny,  gray 
thing,  sitting  on  the  dead  branch  of  a  fallen  tree. 
As  I  came  near  him,  his  mother's  terror  was  piti- 
ful. She  flew  about  as  if  distraught ;  now  trying 
to  draw  me  away,  she  cried  out  and  fluttered  her 
wings  beseechingly;  then,  rinding  that  I  still  kept 
looking  toward  the  little  fellow,  she  flew  down  be- 
tween us  and  tried  to  lure  me  off.  I  was  very 
anxious  to  see  if  she  would  "  trail,"  and  so  was 
merciless.  Walking  toward  her  trembling  bird  I 
raised  my  hand  as  if  to  take  him,  at  the  same 
time  glancing  over  at  her  —  behold  !  she  was  try- 
ing another  device  —  assuming  indifference,  as  if 
divining  that  my  interest  in  her  was  greater  than 


184     BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

in  her  little  one.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  me, 
however,  and  just  before  the  baby  flew  from  my 
approaching  hand,  she  dashed  down  and  flew 
about  wildly,  trailing,  as  I  had  hoped.  It  was 
pitiful  to  see  her  distress,  and  having  taken  a 
good  look  at  her  I  retreated  as  fast  as  possible. 

Each  bird  has  its  own  method  of  decoy :  the 
whippoorwill  starts  up  the  leaves  that  look  like 
her  scampering  babies  ;  the  kingfisher  falls  on 
the  surface  of  the  water ;  and  the  redstart,  instead 
of  spreading  her  wings  and  tail  and  dragging 
them  on  the  ground  as  the  oven-bird  does,  spreads 
and  drags  her  tail,  while  she  flutters  her  wings 
with  a  tremulous  motion,  which  is  much  more  ef- 
fective, —  suggestive  of  weakness  and  helplessness 
to  the  hungry  animal,  who  finds  a  fat,  full-grown 
bird  more  appetizing  than  a  scrawny  youngster  ; 
suggestive  of  anguish  to  the  man,  to  whom  it 
seems  an  appeal  for  mercy.  The  love  of  knowl- 
edge gave  little  excuse  for  treating  a  poor  little 
mother  to  such  a  scare,  but  I  consoled  myself  by 
thinking  that  she  would  be  all  the  more  wary 
when  real  danger  threatened. 

LXIL 

BLACK  AND  WHITE  CREEPING  WARBLER. 

As  his  name  indicates,  this  creeper  is  entirely 
black  and  white.  Except  on  the  underside  of  his 


BLACK  AND   WHITE  CREEPING   WARBLER.  185 

breast,  where  there  is  an  area  of  plain  white,  the 
colors  are  arranged  mostly  in  alternate  streaks. 
Although  much  more  slender,  the  creeper  is  just 
about  the  length  of  the  chickadee,  of  whom  he  re- 
minds you  by  his  fondness  for  tree  trunks  and 
branches.  His  habits  of  work,  though,  are  much 
more  suggestive  of  the  nuthatch  and  brown 
creeper,  and  as  the  three  are  often  found  together 
during  migration,  it  is  easy  to  compare  them. 

The  black  and  white  creeper  is  more  active  than 
the  others ;  that  is,  he  has  more  of  the  restless 
warbler  habit  of  flitting.  He  is  not  as  painstak- 
ing nor  as  systematic  as  the  brown  creeper ;  and 
has  neither  as  good  head  nor  feet  as  the  nuthatch. 
Where  the  brown  creeper  would  go  over  a  tree 
trunk  twice,  to  be  sure  that  nothing  had  escaped 
him,  the  black  and  white  creeper  will  run  up  the 
side  of  a  trunk  a  little  way,  then  bob  about  on 
the  branches  for  a  moment,  and  flit  off  to  another 
tree.  He  will  hang  head  down  from  a  branch  to 
peck  at  the  bark,  and  circle  round  a  small  tree 
horizontally,  but  I  have  never  seen  him  go  down 
a  tree  head  first,  as  the  nuthatch  does,  or  walk 
around  the  underside  of  a  branch.  He  will  stand 
and  look  over  the  edge  of  a  branch  as  if  trying 
to  see  around  underneath,  but  if  he  concludes  to 
go  to  the  other  side  he  will  flit  around  instead  of 
walking.  His  song  is  a  high-keyed  trill,  and  as 
he  is  protected  by  being  nearly  the  color  of  the 
gray  bark  he  is  usually  clinging  to,  it  is  a  grate- 
ful help  to  the  discovery  of  his  whereabouts. 


186     BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

LXIH. 

BLACKBURNIAN   WARBLER;    HEMLOCK   WARBLER', 
ORANGE-THROATED   WARBLER. 

THE  Blackburnian  is  one  of  the  handsomest 
and  most  easily  recognized  of  the  warblers.  His 
throat  is  a  rich  orange  or  flame  color,  so  brilliant 
that  it  is  enough  in  itself  to  distinguish  him  from 
any  of  the  others.  His  back  is  black  with  yel- 
lowish markings.  His  crown  is  black,  but  has 
an  orange  spot  in  the  centre  ;  and  the  rest  of  his 
head,  except  near  his  eye,  is  the  same  flaming 
orange  as  his  throat.  His  wings  have  white 
patches,  and  his  breast  is  whitish,  tinged  with  yel- 
low. His  sides  are  streaked  with  black.  The 
female  and  young  are  duller,  the  black  of  their 
backs  being  mingled  with  olive  ;  while  their 
throats  are  yellow  instead  of  orange. 

Now  and  then  you  are  fortunate  enough  to  get 
a  near  view  of  this  exquisite  bird,  but  he  has  an 
exasperating  fondness  for  the  highest  branches  of 
the  tallest  trees.  You  can  see  there  is  something 
up  there,  but  as  you  throw  your  head  back  and 
strain  through  your  opera-glass,  you  fancy  it  is 
some  phantom  bird  flitting  about  darkening  the 
leaves.  The  seconds  wear  into  minutes,  but  you 
dare  not  move.  Your  glasses  don't  help  you  to 
see  through  the  leaves,  but  you  feel  sure  that 
something  will  appear  in  a  moment,  over  the  edge 


BLACK-THROATED  BLUE   WARBLER.      187 

of  that  spray  or  on  the  end  of  that  bare  twig,  and 
it  won't  do  to  miss  it.  So  when  your  neckache 
becomes  intolerable  you  fix  your  eyes  immovably 
011  the  most  promising  spot,  and  step  cautiously 
backward  till  you  can  lean  against  a  tree.  The 
support  disappoints  you,  your  hand  trembles  as 
much  as  ever,  and  your  neck  is  growing  stiff.  You 
make  a  final  effort,  take  your  glass  in  both  hands, 
and  change  your  focus,  when  suddenly  a  low,  fine 
trill  that  you  recognize  from  being  accented  on 
the  end  like  a  redstart's,  comes  from  a  branch  sev- 
eral feet  higher  than  before  over  your  head.  Your 
neck  refuses  to  bend  an  inch  more.  You  despair. 
But  all  at  once  your  tormentor  comes  tumbling 
through  the  leaves  after  an  insect  that  has  gotten 
away  from  him,  and  you  catch  one  fleeting  glimpse 
of  orange  that  more  than  repays  you  for  all  your 
cramps. 

LXIV. 

BLACK-THROATED    BLUE   WARBLER. 

LIKE  other  ladies,  the  little  feathered  brides 
have  to  bear  their  husbands'  names,  however  inap- 
propriate. What  injustice !  Here  an  innocent 
creature  with  an  olive-green  back  and  yellowish 
breast  has  to  go  about  all  her  days  known  as  the 
black  -  throated  blue  warbler,  just  because  that 
happens  to  describe  the  dress  of  her  spouse !  The 
most  she  has  in  common  with  him  is  a  white  spot 


188     BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

on  her  wings,  and  that  does  not  come  into  the 
name  at  all.  Talk  about  woman's  wrongs  !  And 
the  poor  little  things  cannot  even  apply  to  the 
legislature  for  a  change  of  name ! 

You  do  not  blame  them  for  nesting  in  the 
mountains  and  the  seclusion  of  northern  woods, 
to  get  away  from  the  scientists  who  so  ignore  their 
individuality.  For  in  this  case  it  is  not  their 
mates  who  are  at  fault.  They  are  as  pleasing,  in- 
offensive birds  as  any  in  the  warbler  family,  and 
go  about  singing  their  z-ie  guttural  x*^i 

as  they   hunt  over  the   twigs  and     £       * 
branches,  without  the  slightest  assumption  of  con- 
jugal authority. 

Indeed,  I  saw  one  last  August  suing  very  hum- 
bly for  his  little  lady's  favor.  She  was  either  out  of 
temper,  or  else  inclined  to  coquette  with  him.  He 
would  fly  to  her  side  in  a  prettily  gentle,  unobtru- 
sive way,  but  she  would  not  even  sit  on  the  same 
branch  with  him.  Off  she  would  go  to  the  next 
tree.  And  he  would  meekly  follow  after  ! 

The  blue-back  has  a  pretty  way  of  turning  up 
his  head  for  a  look  before  he  flies  to  the  branch 
above  him,  or  clambering  about  by  the  help  of  a 
stem  here,  or  the  side  of  a  sapling  there,  for,  as 
Mr.  Burroughs  says,  he  is  not  a  gymnast.  He  is 
a  winning,  trustful  little  bird,  and  will  often  stop 
his  work  as  you  come  by,  to  look  at  you. 


YELLOW-RUMPED   WARBLER.  189 

LXV. 

YELLOW-RUMPED   WARBLER ;     MYRTLE   WARBLER. 

DURING  migration  the  yellow-rumped  is  one  of 
the  most  abundant  warblers.  It  is  a  hardy,  ro- 
bust-looking bird ;  the  first  of  the  family  to  ap- 
pear in  the  spring,  and  one  of  the  last  to  leave  in 
the  fall.  You  can  recognize  an  adult  male  very 
easily  in  spring,  because  the  black  zouave  jacket 
he  wears  over  his  white  vest  has  conspicuous 
white  and  yellow  side  pieces. 

The  yellow-rump  is  a  fearless  bird,  and  fre- 
quents undergrowth  as  well  as  tree  tops,  so,  if  you 
can  induce  an  adult  male  to  keep  still  long  enough 
on  a  spring  morning,  you  will  readily  note  the 
yellow  crown  that  sets  off  his  slaty-blue  back,  and 
the  white  chin  that  gives  the  effect  of  a  choker. 
The  adult  female  is  dressed  in  much  the  same 
way,  but  is  duller,  and  offers  less  marked  con- 
trasts in  color.  In  the  winter,  like  many  other 
birds,  they  are  both  much  altered  —  above  they 
are  washed  with  umber  brown,  and  below,  a  paler 
wash  of  the  same  obscures  their  summer  mark- 
ings. 

Sometimes  you  will  see  large  flocks  of  the  yel- 
low-rumped without  any  other  warblers,  but  as  a 
general  thing  you  will  discover  a  few  other  spe- 
cies, and  sometimes  there  will  be  a  dozen  different 
kinds  together.  The  myrtle  warbler  has  a  coarse 


190     BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

z-ie  call,  and  a  trill  that  is  heavier  than  that  of 
the  golden  warbler. 

LXVI. 

CHESTNUT-SIDED  WARBLER. 

WHEN  I  first  saw  the  chestnut-sided  warbler 
he  was  flitting  about  the  upper  branches  of  the 
saplings  in  the  raspberry  patch,  about  three  rods 
away,  and  I  put  down  his  yellow  cap  and  wing 
bars  as  white,  and  did  not  even  see  the  chestnut 
bands  along  his  sides.  I  noted  his  pure  white 
breast,  however,  and  his  loud,  cheerful  whee-he- 
he,  so  strikingly  unlike  the  ordinary  warbler  trill 
or  the  z-ie  tones  of  some  species.  The  next  day, 
after  looking  him  up  and  finding  what  ought  to 
be  there,  I  discovered,  by  the  help  of  my  glasses, 
what,  in  fact,  seemed  little  more  than  a  maroon 
line  beside  the  wings.  But  in  a  few  days  I  found 
another  bird  whose  chestnut  sides  were  as  the 
books  would  have  them,  and  I  felt  like  shouting 
Eureka ! 

Though  I  could  not  detect  the  nests  that  should 
have  been  in  the  saplings  bordering  the  clearing, 
I  found  plenty  of  mother  chestnuts  leading  their 
broods  about.  They  were  among  the  pleasantest 
acquaintances  of  the  summer.  Such  charming  lit- 
tle birds  as  they  are ! 

My  first  hint  of  what  was  going  on  was  the 
sight  of  one  of  the  dainty  little  ladies  peering  at 


MARYLAND   YELLOW-THROAT.          191 

me  from  under  the  leaves  and  twigs,  with  a  mouth- 
ful of  worms.  After  hunting  through  the  low 
bushes  for  some  time,  I  ferreted  out  some  bird's 
baby,  a  grayish  mite  with  light  wing  bars,  and 
wavy  shadowy  markings  across  its  breast.  But  it 
was  not  until  the  next  day  that  I  had  proof  that 
it  belonged  to  my  bird.  While  watching  some 
vireos  in  the  bushes  just  in  the  edge  of  the  clear- 
ing, the  mother  suddenly  appeared.  Perking  up 
her  tail  and  drooping  her  wings,  she  leaned  over 
so  as  to  be  able  to  see  me,  gave  a  few  little  ques- 
tioning smacks,  and  then  flew  down  into  the  bush 
only  a  few  feet  from  me,  and  fed  the  little  bird 
without  fear. 

Fear  seems  to  be  an  instinct,  an  inheritance 
with  her,  but  her  own  confidence  is  strong  enough 
to  conquer  it.  Indeed,  she  is  altogether  sensible, 
straightforward,  industrious,  and  confiding  —  a 
captivating,  motherly  body. 

LXVH. 

MARYLAND     YELLOW  -  THROAT  ;     BLACK  -  MASKED 
GROUND   WARBLER. 

IF  your  walks  lead  you  through  low  under- 
brush, weed-grown  river  banks,  alder  swamps,  or 
other  rough,  damp  places,  you  will  very  likely  no- 
tice the  loud,  quick  wJieS  -  che-tee,  whee~che-tee, 
wJieerche-tee  that  betrays  the  Maryland  yellow- 


192     BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

throat.  He  is  often  shy  and  you  may  follow  his 
voice  for  a  long  time  and  not  get  a  glimpse  of 
the  bird,  but  see  him  once  and  you  will  never  for- 
get the  picture.  You  will  find  him  hopping  about 
either  on  the  ground  or  near  it,  for  he  is  truly  a 
ground  warbler. 

His  back  is  olive-green,  with  the  chin,  throat, 
and  breast  rich  yellow.  The  forehead  is  black, 
and  there  is  a  peculiar,  mask-like,  oblong  black 
patch  on  each  side  of  his  face  that  extends  from 
the  bill  back  to  the  neck,  and  is  separated  from 
the  dark  part  of  the  head  by  a  strip  of  ash.  The 
colors  of  the  female  are  much  duller,  as  she  lacks 
the  black  patch  and  the  bright  yellow. 

If  you  would  see  the  Maryland  yellow-throat 
at  his  best,  you  must  invade  the  dense  tangle  of 
an  alder  swamp,  so  often  the  fugitive's  last  ref- 
uge, where  you  can  get  only  mosaic  glimpses  of 
blue  sky  overhead,  and  cannot  distinguish  a  per- 
son twenty  feet  away;  where  you  must  push 
through  the  interwoven  boughs,  picking  your 
steps  around  bogs,  over  slippery  logs  and  tree 
trunks,  where  luxuriant  growths  of  wild  grape- 
vine, clematis,  and  the  clinging  galium  beautify 
the  sturdy  alders ;  where  the  royal  fern,  stretch- 
ing above  your  waist,  flowers  in  obscurity. 

Here,  in  this  secure  cover,  our  little  friend 
seems  to  lose  his  timidity  and  blossoms  out  in  the 
full  beauty  of  his  nature.  We  find  him  singing  to 
himself  as  he  runs  over  the  alder  boughs,  exam- 


THRUSHES.  193 

ining  the  leaves  with  the  care  of  a  vireo,  or  clam- 
bering down  the  side  of  an  alder  stalk  to  hunt  at 
its  roots.  Whr-r-ree1 '-chee-tee,  whr-r-ree'-chee-tee, 
whr-r-ree'-chee-tee,  the  cheery  rich  song  comes  vi- 
brating through  the  air,  to  be  echoed  from  the 
far-off  corners  of  the  swamp.  We  sit  down  on 
an  old  moss-covered  log  to  eat  our  lunch,  and  in 
answer  to  my  call  the  sociable  little  warbler  comes 
nearer  and  nearer  till  at  last  he  catches  sight  of 
us.  With  what  charming  curiosity  he  peers  down 
at  us !  What  can  be  his  thoughts  of  the  strange 
intruders  as  he  takes  a  half  circle  to  inspect  us, 
first  from  one  point  and  then  from  another  ! 

A  little  further  along  I  come  upon  a  father 
bird  who  is  even  more  friendly.  He  is  feeding 
his  hungry  little  ones,  and  goes  about  in  a  most 
business-like  way  hunting  for  food,  but  still  takes 
time  for  an  occasional  warble.  He  sees  me,  but, 
after  a  casual  survey,  keeps  on  with  his  work 
with  the  calmness  of  preoccupation,  answering 
my  call  in  a  naive,  off-hand  manner  that  is  very 
gratifying. 

LXVEDL 

THRUSHES. 

AFTER  spending  a  morning  with  a  flock  of 
warblers,  trying  to  fix  your  glass  on  the  spot 
overhead  where  the  leaves  stirred,  striving  to 
catch  the  colors  of  the  cap  and  wing  bars  of  the 


194    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

little  object  fluttering  through  the  branches  of  a 
sapling  three  or  four  rods  away ;  making  your 
neck  ache  looking  for  the  vexatious  flitters  that 
hunt  in  the  tops  of  the  highest  trees ;  following 
the  hint  of  a  faint  chip  here,  while  you  keep  your 
eye  on  half  a  dozen  of  the  rarer  warblers  that 
have  just  come  in  sight  over  there ;  losing  track 
of  the  whole  flock  as  you  stop  to  study  the  habits 
of  one  ;  and  then  having  to  trudge  the  woods 
over,  straining  your  ears  till  convinced  that  you 
are  deaf,  as  you  try  in  vain  to  catch  the  chick 
a-dee-dee  of  the  titmouse,  or  the  yang,  yang  of 
the  nuthatch,  which  would  give  a  clue  to  the 
whereabouts  of  their  companions,  the  runaways 
—  after  a  morning  spent  in  this  way,  you  will 
come  back  to  the  thrushes  with  a  feeling  of  pos- 
itive relief . 

In  the  first  place,  they  are  large  enough  to  be 
seen,  and  give  you  the  full  benefit  of  their  size 
by  keeping  near  the  ground.  Then,  if  you  find 
one,  he  is  likely  to  stay  and  let  you  inspect  him. 
Moreover,  it  is  possible  to  identify  him  without 
knowing  about  each  individual  tail  feather  and 
wing  marking.  Besides  all  this,  you  gain  self- 
respect  in  associating  with  the  thrushes.  When 
you  have  chased  after  a  flock  of  warblers  half  a 
day,  only  to  find,  on  comparing  your  notes  with 
descriptions  in  the  books,  that  what  you  saw 
applies  equally  well  to  three  or  four  widely  dif- 
fering species,  your  opinion  of  yourself  dwindles 


THRUSHES.  195 

unpleasantly ;  depressing  doubts  creep  into  your 
mind.  But  with  the  thrushes  the  case  is  reversed. 
You  can  write  essays  in  your  note-book  while  they 
sit  and  look  at  you.  You  can  arrange  their  songs 
in  flats  and  sharps  to  suit  your  fancy,  and  they 
will  not  demur. 

Doubtless,  you  must  treat  them  with  respect. 
But  whoever  thought  of  making  a  noise  in  the 
presence  of  a  philosopher,  or  taking  liberties  with 
a  sage?  You  feel  flattered  by  being  allowed  to 
watch  them  at  a  distance,  and  when  you  get  home 
and  find  Kidgway's  Manual  ready  to  indorse  your 
identifications,  your  self-respect  is  restored. 

With  the  thrushes,  our  pigeon-holes  are  filled, 
and  it  will  be  well  to  glance  over  their  labels 
again  before  leaving  them  :  No.  1,  flycatchers  ; 
No.  2,  crows,  jays,  etc. ;  No.  3,  blackbirds,  orioles, 
etc. ;  No.  4,  sparrows,  finches,  etc. ;  No.  5,  tana- 
gers ;  No.  6,  swallows ;  No.  7,  waxwings,  etc. ;  No. 
8,  vireos ;  No.  9,  wood  warblers  ;  No.  10,  wrens, 
thrashers,  etc. ;  No.  11,  creepers ;  No.  12,  nut- 
hatches and  titmice ;  No.  13,  kinglets,  etc. ;  No. 
14,  thrushes,  etc.  What  a  contrast  between  the 
birds  in  the  first  hole  and  those  in  the  last  — 
what  a  distance  between  the  bony,  awkward  fly- 
catchers, with  their  undeveloped  voices,  and  the 
shapely  dignified  thrushes,  the  nightingales  of 
America ! 

But  in  their  order,  the  birds  of  most  of  the 
pigeon-holes  show  some  obvious,  external  relation 


196    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

to  those  in  the  hole  above  them.  The  flycatchers, 
like  the  crows  and  jays,  are  songless  birds  ;  the 
crows  and  jays  are  similar  to  the  blackbirds  and 
orioles  in  build  and  habit ;  the  blackbirds  and  ori- 
oles are  linked  with  the  sparrows  and  finches  by 
the  short,  conical  -  billed  bobolink  and  cowbird ; 
the  sparrows  and  finches  resemble  the  tanagers 
in  general  build  ;  the  swallows  in  No.  6  seem  to 
stand  alone;  but  the  waxwings  resemble  the  vi- 
reos  in  elegance  and  tone  of  plumage  ;  the  vireos 
approach  the  wood  warblers  in  size  and  form ;  and 
while  there  is  a  natural  gap  between  Nos.  9  and 
10,  as  two  families  are  omitted,  the  wrens  and 
thrashers  are  like  the  creepers  in  shape  of  bill 
and  general  coloring ;  and  the  creeper  is  closely 
connected  with  the  nuthatch  of  No.  12,  nut- 
hatches and  titmice,  while  the  titmice  in  their 
turn  show  the  nearness  of  the  family  to  the  king- 
lets. These  resemblances,  however,  are  mostly 
superficial,  not  real. 

The  several  thrushes  are  so  closely  allied  that 
there  is  difficulty  in  discriminating  between  them, 
and  I  confess  they  puzzled  me  at  first.  I  began 
by  studying  the  wood,  the  hermit,  and  the  tawny. 
These  three  all  had  brown  backs,  white  speckled 
breasts,  and  beautiful  voices.  But  before  long  I 
found  they  could  be  easily  distinguished  by  varia- 
tions in  the  shade  of  brown  on  their  backs,  by 
size  and  arrangement  of  the  speckles,  and  by  the 
quality  of  their  songs. 


THRUSHES.  197 

Coloring  of  Back. 

The  brown  of  the  wood  thrush  is  reddest  on 
head  and  shoulders. 

The  brown  of  the  hermit  is  reddest  on  the  tail. 
The  tawny  has  a  uniformly  tawny  back. 

Speckling  of  Breast. 

The  ivood  is  heavily  speckled  with  large  brown 
spots,  except  on  a  plain  middle  area. 

The  hermit,  in  keeping  with  his  smaller  size, 
is  less  heavily  marked,  with  smaller  speckles,  and 
has  a  plain  area  underneath,  as  well  as  on  his 
neck  and  breast. 

The  tawny  is  only  lightly  spotted  on  the  sides 
of  his  breast,  and  has  a  tawny  chin  and  throat. 

Character  of  Song. 

The  wood  has  a  loud,  rich,  broken  song. 

The  hermit's  resembles  the  wood's  in  quality, 
but  is  much  superior.  It  has  a  trill  inserted  in 
each  phrase. 

The  tawny  has  a  low  sweet  song  consisting  of 
a  succession  of  trills,  in  descending  scale. 

In  many  places  the  wood  thrush  is  found  in 
the  most  open  ground,  and  the  hermit  in  the 
densest  forest,  but  this  is  not  always  the  case. 

The  most  remarkable  of  the  groups  of  sweet- 
voiced  birds,  the  thrushes,  are  perhaps  the  most 
completely  protected,  for  they  are  not  only  incon- 
spicuous in  coloring  and  of  quiet  habits,  but  seek 
the  shelter  of  the  forest  for  a  home. 


198     BIRDS   THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

LXIX. 

WILSON'S  THRUSH;  VEERY;  TAWNY  THRUSH. 

IN  Northampton,  I  have  heard  the  veery  sing 
in  the  orchard  by  the  river,  where  the  catbird,  the 
song  sparrow,  the  yellow  warbler,  and  the  redstart 
nested,  and  where  the  cuckoo,  the  rose  -  breasted 
grosbeak,  the  yellow-throated  vireo,  and  flocks  of 
migrating  warblers  came  to  call.  There  it  was 
that  the  catbird  tried  to  imitate  the  Wilson's 
song.  Perhaps  the  indignity  drove  the  thrush  on 
to  "Paradise"  — in  any  case,  he  made  his  home 
there,  choosing  the  most  beautiful  places  to  sing 
in,  and  hopping  about  among  the  ferns  over  the 
pine  needles  that  matched  the  soft  brown  of  his 
coat. 

How  well  I  remember  spending  one  Sunday 
afternoon  in  the  pine  grove,  sitting  where  the 
ground  was  strewn  with  glistening  needles,  and 
leaning  against  a  rugged  pine  trunk  flecked  by 
the  sunlight.  And  how  when  the  symphony  of 
wind  spirits  softly  touching  their  harp  strings 
in  the  tree  tops  had  soothed  every  sense  into  rest 
and  peace,  across  the  grove,  from  the  trees  on 
the  hillside  and  the  bushes  by  the  river  in  anti- 
phonal  chorus,  rang  out  the  low  trilling  chant  of 
the  veeries. 

Here,  at  home,  I  know  one  Wilson's  thrush 
that  sings  in  a  locust-tree  close  to  a  house  by  the 


WILSON'S  THRUSH.  199 

side  of  the  road,  apparently  indifferent  to  the 
baying  of  hounds,  as  well  as  the  noisy  play  of 
the  children ;  but  I  have  also  found  others  that 
were  shy,  even  in  the  seclusion  of  an  alder 
swamp. 

In  our  woods  there  are  five  haunts  of  the  veery. 
Two  are  in  a  dry  second  growth,  one  of  which  is 
on  the  western  exposure  of  the  woods  where  the 
coldest  winds  sweep  over  the  hill,  and  little  is 
heard  save  the  woodpecker's  reveille  and  the  pen- 
sive note  of  the  wood  pewee.  Here  the  thrushes' 
chief  occupation  is  to  turn  the  dry  leaves  aside 
with  their  bills,  and  scratch  among  them,  oven- 
bird  fashion,  for  worms.  The  three  other  places 
are  moist  ferneries,  two  of  them  being  in  the 
most  protected  part  of  the  woods.  One  is  in  the 
partridges'  cover,  the  grove  of  maple  saplings 
where  the  redstart  and  the  oven-bird  nest,  and 
the  sun  streams  in  to  light  up  great  masses  of  the 
arching  hairy  mountain  fern,  and  warm  the  moss- 
covered  drumming  log  of  the  partridge.  An- 
other is  an  old  swamp  on  whose  border  a  giant 
hemlock  stands.  Here  the  red  morning  sunlight 
creeps  up  soon  after  the  birds  are  awake,  and 
touches  caressingly  the  smooth  trunks  of  the 
beeches.  It  always  seems  as  if  the  veery  were 
more  sociable  here  than  on  the  dark  western  side 
of  the  woods.  If  you  find  one  running  along  on 
the  dark  moss,  you  are  sure  to  see  another  stand- 
ing among  the  ferns ;  if  you  stop  to  see  how  the 


200    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

sunlight  shimmers  through  the  young  hemlocks, 
a  friendly  kree-ah  from  a  bush  near  by  will  pre- 
pare you  for  the  low  song  that  trills  in  descend- 
ing scale  through  the  cool  morning  air,  and  breaks 
the  hush  of  sunrise,  as  one  after  another  of  the 
peaceful  songsters  takes  it  up  and  carries  it  along. 

In  this  swamp,  on  the  soft  decayed  wood  in  the 
top  of  an  old  stump,  five  or  six  feet  from  the 
ground,  one  of  the  veeries'  nests  was  found,  and 
I  think  that  careful  search  might  have  revealed 
others.  But  although  such  places  seem  best 
suited  to  their  tastes,  I  have  found  a  nest  in  a  lo- 
cality as  dissimilar  as  could  be  imagined.  It  was 
on  the  edge  of  a  raspberry  patch  where  the  sun 
beat  down  nearly  all  day  long.  The  nest  was  de- 
serted when  I  found  it.  Such  a  pretty  structure 
as  it  was !  Within  a  foot  or  so  of  the  ground, 
wedged  in  between  the  sides  of  a  young  beech,  it 
was  made  almost  entirely  of  old  leaves,  and  com- 
pletely disguised  by  the  crisp  brown  ones  still 
clinging  to  the  twigs.  The  lining  was  of  dead 
leaves,  roots,  and  stems.  The  four  eggs  were  a 
beautiful,  unspotted,  robin's-egg  blue.  What  a 
pity  it  seemed  that  such  an  attractive  little  home 
should  be  broken  up !  Who  will  ever  know  its 
tragedy!  Perhaps  the  lonely  father  bird  still 
haunts  the  woods  mourning  for  his  little  mate  ! 

In  his  own  quiet  way,  the  veery  is  a  peculiarly 
sociable  bird.  So,  although  his  song  is  the  least 
remarkable  of  the  three  thrushes,  his  conversa- 


WILSON'S  THRUSH.  201 

tional  notes  and  calls  are  both  varied  and  numer- 
ous. His  regular  song  is  a  series  of  trills  descend- 
ing the  scale,  and  may  be  rendered  as  a  trilled 
trea,  trea,  trea.  Another  form  of  this  is  tree, 
tree,  trum,  rea,  rea. 

Last  spring  I  was  greatly  puzzled  by  hearing 
in  the  woods  what  seemed  like  the  bleating  of  a 
lamb  ;  and  although  I  soon  suspected  its  source, 
it  was  some  time  before  I  saw  the  veery  making 
this  peculiar  sound.  It  resembles  a  bleat  so  nearly 
that  it  can  be  fairly  represented  by  the  syllables 
ba-ah-ah.  Mr.  Brewster  says  it  is  a  common  note 
from  the  mountains  of  North  Carolina  to  Maine 
and  Labrador.  I  have  heard  it  modified  into  a 
rapid  run  resembling  titaree.  As  far  as  I  have 
observed,  this  bleating  call  is  usually  connected 
with  flight,  or  motion  of  some  kind. 

The  commonest  calls  of  the  veery  when  undis- 
turbed are  kree-ah  and  kree-up.  His  kree'-whee-a 
is  in  a  higher  key  and  suggests  alarm.  One  day 
I  went  through  the  bushes  where  a  family  of 
young  were  hiding.  The  mother  sat  on  a  branch 
looking  down  whisking  her  tail  in  dismay.  Whee- 
ah  !  she  called,  and  then  added  in  undertone  what 
seemed  to  be  a  warning,  and  sounded  like  be  still, 
be  still  f 

Sitting  on  a  stump  in  the  raspberry  patch,  I 
have  drawn  a  number  of  veeries  about  me  by  imi- 
tating their  kree-ah,  and  one  of  the  rarest  forest 
concerts  I  ever  listened  to  began  with  this  call. 


202    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

It  was  on  a  June  afternoon,  when  the  sunbeams 
slanted  lazily  through  the  heavy  summer  air,  tip- 
ping the  fern  fronds,  and  giving  a  touch  of  golden 
enchantment  to  the  brown  leaves  that  strewed  the 
ground.  Kree-ah,  kree-v/p,  came  the  sweet,  rich 
call,  first  from  one  side  and  then  another,  till  a 
dozen  thrushes  gathered.  Then  from  their  leafy 
covers  rose  the  grave  beautiful  song.  It  seemed 
the  choral  of  a  dream,  in  which  each  note  came 
forth  as  an  inspiration. 

LXX. 

HERMIT  THRUSH. 

IN  literature  and  in  the  field  the  tawny  and 
hermit  thrushes  are  constantly  confounded.  The 
most  marked  differences  have  been  given,  but 
there  are  a  few  lesser  points  that  may  be  of  use 
in  distinguishing  them.  The  back  of  the  hermit 
is  olive,  while  the  tawny,  as  his  name  indicates, 
has  a  tawny  back.  The  hermit  has  the  habit  of 
raising  his  tail  and  then  letting  it  drop  straight 
down,  while  the  tawny  raises  his  tail  higher,  and 
lowers  it  only  to  the  horizontal.  The  hermit  is 
shy  and  solitary ;  the  tawny  sociable  and  compar- 
atively confiding.  The  veery  nests  in  various 
places ;  the  hermit,  almost  always  on  the  ground 
in  a  swamp,  where  he  builds  with  leaves,  sedges, 
and  moss. 


HERMIT  THRUSH.  203 

The  call  of  the  tawny  is  greatly  varied,  but  the 
hermit  has  a  peculiar,  nasal  chuck,  which,  Mr. 
Bicknell  says,  suggests  "  the  note  of  a  distant 
blackbird." 

The  low,  sweet,  trilled  song  of  the  tawny  bears 
little  resemblance  to  the  loud,  richly  modulated 
song  of  the  hermit  ;  but  as  they  have  been  mis- 
taken for  each  other,  it  may  be  well  to  give  the 
approximate  relations  of  time  and  note  in  mu- 
sical phrase.  Like  the  song  of  the  tawny,  the 
hermit's  is  divided  into  three  parts,  going  down 
the  scale.  But  the  trill  is,  here,  only  the  middle 
of  each  phrase 


Variations  from  this  occur  in  broken  songs,  as  : 


ah   re   oo-oo, 

At  a  little  distance  this  is  probably  the  most 
beautiful  song  of  our  woods.  Mr.  Burroughs 
says  that  to  him  it  is  the  finest  sound  in  nature. 
In  the  Adirondack  region  the  retiring  hermit  is 
appropriately  known  as  the  "  swamp  angel." 

On  the  beautiful  May  morning  when  we  found 
the  red-winged  blackbirds  "  fluting  their  o-ka-lee  " 
over  the  field  of  cowslips,  we  went  on  to  the  woods 
back  of  the  alder  swamp  where  the  wild  flowers 


204    BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA-GLASS. 

were  blossoming.  Pushing  up  through  the  dead 
leaves  hundreds  of  yellow  adder  tongues  turned 
back  their  petals  and  darted  out  their  red  sta- 
mens ;  colonies  of  spring  beauties  were  springing 
up  in  the  woods,  raising  their  tiny  pearl  stems, 
spreading  out  their  two  slender  green  leaves,  and 
opening  their  delicate  crowning  cups  of  pure 
white  or  delicate  rose.  At  the  foot  of  the  tree 
trunks  clusters  of  "  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  — 
"  squirrels'  corn,"  some  call  them  —  looked  from 
their  luxuriant  cover  of  green  leaf  filaments. 
And  close  to  the  ground  lay  the  children's  shin- 
ing red  fungus  "  cups  and  saucers  "  to  light  up 
the  woods.  But  in  the  midst  of  all  this  mute 
loveliness  the  minstrel  of  the  forest  came  to  sing 
for  the  flowers  their  lay  of  the  spring.  Sitting 
almost  motionless  on  the  dead  branch  of  a  fallen 
tree  top,  the  thrush  poured  forth  his  oh'-tir-a-lee- 
lee  in  ever  varying  tone  and  melody,  till  the  woods 
seemed  enriched  by  the  marvellous  song. 

Each  bird  seems  to  voice  some  phase  of  nature. 
The  bobolink  sings  for  the  sunny  meadow,  the 
vireo  for  the  shaded  tree  top,  the  goldfinch  for 
the  blue  sky,  the  indigo -bird  for  the  passing 
breezes,  and  the  whippoorwill  for  the  night ;  but 
the  hermit  thrush  chants  the  forest  Te  Deums 
for  sunrise  and  sunset.  Ever  since  I  was  a  child, 
in  the  long  summer  evenings  we  have  walked 
through  the  woods  to  "  William  Miller  Hill,"  to 
see  the  sunset  and  listen  to  the  hermit's  vespers. 


HERMIT  THRUSH.  205 

As  we  went  along,  watching  the  red  light  slant 
across  the  trunks  of  the  trees,  we  would  some- 
times be  thrilled  with  his  song,  but  not  till  we 
had  reached  the  brow  of  the  hill  overlooking  the 
village  in  the  valley,  and  the  dark  line  of  wooded 
hills  beyond,  not  till  — 

"  The  golden  lighting  of  the  sinking  sun 
O'er  which  clouds  are  brightening"  — 

had  all  melted  away,  the  sun  dropped  behind  the 
dark  hills,  and  the  rosy  cloudlets  training  across 
the  sky  had  gradually  disappeared ;  not  till  the 
afterglow  of  the  sunset  was  turning  to  pale  serene 
light,  would  the  song  of  the  hermit  stir  us  with 
its  full  richness  and  beauty.  Then  from  the 
wooded  hillside  it  would  come  to  us,  filling  the 
cool  evening  air  with  its  tremulous  yearning  and 
pathos,  and  gathering  up  into  short  waves  of  song 
the  silent  music  of  the  sunset  —  nature's  benison 
of  peace. 


206 


APPENDIX. 


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APPENDIX. 


207 


£  a 


Grouse. 

Yellow-billed  Cackoo. 
Black-billed  Cackoo. 
O  Kingfisher. 

Hairy  Woodpecker. 
W     Downy  Woodpecker. 
2    Yellow-bellied  Woodpecker. 
Red-headed  Woodpecker. 
Golden-winged  Woodpecker. 
Whippoorwill. 
Night-hawk. 
Swift. 
Hamming-bird. 


208  APPENDIX. 


GENERAL  FAMILY  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  BIRDS 
TREATED. 

CUCKOOS. 

Long  slender  birds  whose  breasts  are  whitish  and  backs 
brown,  with  a  faint  bronze  lustre.  Bill,  long  and  curved. 
Call,  loud  and  prolonged.  Song,  wanting.  Habits,  eccen- 
tric —  strange  silent  birds,  living  in  undergrowth  or  low 
trees. 

KINGFISHERS. 

Large  top-heavy  birds  with  long  crests,  slate-blue  backs, 
and  white  breasts.  Bill,  very  large  and  strong  for  holding 
fish.  Flight,  rapid  and  prolonged.  Song,  a  loud  hurried 
trill.  Fishermen  by  occupation,  they  live  about  rivers  and 
lakes,  excavating  nests  in  the  banks. 

WOODPECKERS. 

Plumage,  largely  black  and  white.  Bill,  strong  and  long 
for  drilling  through  bark  and  wood.  Flight,  noisy,  flicker- 
ing. Call,  loud  and  shrill.  Song,  wanting,  except  as  they 
drum  on  trees,  etc.  Habits,  phlegmatic,  most  of  time  spent 
clinging,  erect,  to  sides  of  tree  trunks.  (Exception,  yellow 
hammer  :  plumage,  brownish,  instead  of  black  and  white  ; 
song,  a  loud  full  trill  ;  habits,  more  like  ground  woodpeck- 
ers ;  haunts  ant-hills,  fields,  and  fence-posts,  etc.) 

GOATSUCKERS. 

Mottled  brownish  and  grayish  birds,  with  tiny  bills  and 
enormous  mouths  for  catching  insects  on  the  wing.  Nest, 
wanting  —  eggs  laid  on  bare  ground  or  leaves. 

SWIFTS. 

Sooty  or  blackish  birds  that  live  on  the  wing,  never 
lighting  except  in  chimneys,  towers,  or  hollow  trees  where 


APPENDIX.  209 

they  roost  and  nest.     Bills  small,  mouths  large,  as  in  the 
goatsuckers. 

HUMMING-BIRDS. 

Diminutive  birds  whose  plumage  shows  brilliant  metallic 
lustre.  Bills,  slender  and  elongated  for  reaching  insects 
and  nectar  at  bottom  of  flower  tubes.  Flight,  rapid,  darting. 

FLYCATCHERS. 

Dull,  gray  birds  with  big  heads  and  shoulders.  Males 
and  females  similar  in  plumage.  Bills,  hooked  at  end. 
Songless  or  with  short  song  (wood  pewee,  three  notes). 
Habits,  hunt  by  lying  in  wait  for  insects  and  then  spring- 
ing at  them  with  nervous  spasmodic  movements.  (Excep- 
tion, kingbird.)  Largely  silent  and  motionless  when  not 
watching  for  food. 

CROWS   AND  JAYS. 

Large  conspicuous  birds,  with  strong  bill  and  claws. 
Songless  but  clamorous.  Active  and  boisterous  —  espe- 
cially the  blue  jay. 

BLACKBIRDS   AND   ORIOLES. 

Plumage,  striking,  black  prominent.  (Exception,  meadow- 
lark.)  Females  generally  duller,  and  in  some  cases  smaller 
than  males.  Bills  and  claws,  strong  ;  bills,  long  and  conical. 
(Exceptions,  bobolink  and  eowbird,  whose  bills  are  short 
and  conical.) 

SPARROWS   AND   FINCHES. 

Fine  songsters.  Bills,  short,  stout,  cone-shaped,  for  crack- 
ing seeds. 

Spairows.  —  Comparatively  small,  dull-plumaged  birds, 
with  striped  backs  ;  much  the  color  of  the  ground  and 
bushes  on  which  they  live  —  males  and  females  similar. 

Finches.  —  Bright-plumaged  birds,  females  duller  than 
males. 


210  APPENDIX. 

TANAGERS. 

Shy,  brilliantly-colored  birds,  with  dull-plumaged  wives. 
They  build  low,  but  hunt  for  worms  and  sing  their  loud 
swinging  song  mostly  in  the  cover  of  tree  tops. 

SWALLOWS. 

Small-billed,  big-mouthed  insect  eaters.  Not  songless, 
yet  without  musical  power.  When  not  flying  they  often 
perch  on  telegraph  wires  and  the  ridge-poles  of  barns. 

WAX  WINGS. 

Elegant,  delicately- tinted  birds.  Usually  silent  and  re- 
tiring. They  practise  among  themselves  amazing  courtesy 
and  gentleness.  . 

VIREOS. 

Small  olive-green  or  gray-backed,  white-breasted  birds  ; 
much  the  color  of  the  lights  and  leaf  tints  they  live  among. 
Bills,  long  and  slender  for  holding  worms.  Songs,  loud  and 
continuous,  from  their  tree-top  covers.  Nests  pensile  and 
delicate. 

WARBLERS. 

Plumage,  mostly  variegated  and  brilliant.  Females  gen- 
erally duller  than  males.  Song,  in  many  cases  only  a  trill. 
Food,  insects.  Habits, -nervous,  restless. 

WRENS   AND  THRASHERS. 

Small  and  large  birds  that  sing  their  brilliant  songs  se- 
cure in  the  protection  of  their  inconspicuous  brown  or  gray 
dress  and  the  dense  thickets  or  forest  undergrowth  they 
frequent.  As  they  spend  little  time  in  flight  their  wings 
are  short,  but  the  long  tails  of  the  thrashers  are  of  great  use 
in  helping  them  along  from  bush  to  bush. 

CREEPERS. 
Small  obscure  brown  birds  that  spend  their  time  creep- 


APPENDIX.  211 

ing  up  and  down  tree  trunks,  from  which  they  get  their  liv- 
ing and  in  which  they  nest.  Bill  long,  slender  and  curved. 
Tails  stiff  and  bristly  for  bracing  them  as  they  work  —  like 
the  woodpeckers'. 

NUTHATCHES   AND  TITS. 

Small  tree  birds  usually  found  together  in  flocks  except 
when  breeding. 

Nuthatches.  —  Slate-blue-backed  birds  that  walk  sedately 
up  and  down  tree  trunks,  and  run  along  branches  upside 
down,  like  flies. 

Chickadees.  —  Fluffy  grayish  birds  that  flit  among  tree 

tops. 

KINGLETS. 

Small  fluffy  greenish  birds  that  flit  about  the  leaves  of 
shrubbery  and  trees  after  insects.  Songs  remarkable. 

THRUSHES 

Brown-backed,  white-breasted  birds,  size  of  robin,  or 
smaller.  Bills,  long  and  slender,  fitted  for  worm  diet. 
Habits,  phlegmatic  ;  pensive  birds,  fond  of  sitting  motion- 
less. Finest  of  American  songsters. 


ARBITRARY  CLASSIFICATIONS  OF  BIRDS  DE- 
SCRIBED. 

I.  BIRDS  FOUND  IN  CERTAIN  LOCAIJTIES. 

1.  About  or  near  houses.  —  Robin,  chipping  sparrow,  song 
sparrow,  junco,  chimney  swift,  crow  blackbird,  warbling  vi- 
reo,  yellow-bellied  woodpecker,  tree  sparrow,  brown  creeper, 
oriole,  phcebe,  purple  finch,  chickadee,  catbird,  red-eyed  vi- 
reo,  nuthatch,  humming-bird,  barn  swallow. 

2.  In    gardens   and  orchards.  —  Catbird,  bluebird,  wax- 
wing,   cuckoo,   oriole,   kingbird,    kinglets,    humming-bird, 
warbling  vireo,  yellow-throated  vireo,  yellow-bellied  wood- 


• 

212  APPENDIX. 

pecker,  purple  finch,  goldfinch,  summer  yellow-bird,  war- 
blers, cowbird,  least  flycatcher,  yellow  hammer. 

3.  In  fields  and  meadows.  —  Meadow-lark,  cowbird,  night- 
hawk,  crow,  bank  swallow,  barn  swallow,  cliff  swallow,  ves- 
per sparrow,  field  sparrow,  bobolink,  red-winged  blackbird, 
snowflake,  song  sparrow. 

4.  In   bushes   and  clearings.  —  White-throated   sparrow, 
song  sparrow,  chipping  sparrow,  tree  sparrow,  field  spar- 
row, white-crowned  sparrow,  junco,  Maryland  yellow-throat, 
kinglets,  chewink,  brown  thrasher,  rose-breasted  grosbeak, 
catbird,  robin,  purple  finch,  goldfinch,  winter  wren. 

5.  By  streams  and  rivers.  —  Phrebe,  waxwing,  bank  swal- 
low, kingfisher,  yellow  warbler,  red- winged  blackbird,  Mary- 
land yellow-throat,  whippoorwill,  barn  swallow,  bank  swal- 
low, cliff  swallow. 

6.  In  woods.  —  Thrushes,  wood  pewee,  oven-bird,   black 
and  white  creeper,  woodpeckers,  junco,  nuthatch,  grouse, 
great-crested  flycatcher,  chewink,  whippoorwill,  tree  spar- 
row, fox  sparrow,  brown  creeper,  scarlet  tanager,  chickadee, 
Blackburnian   warbler,  crossbills,   vireos,  redstart,   black- 
throated  blue  warbler,  yellow-rumped  warbler,  winter  wren. 

7«  Edge  of  ivoods.  —  Rose-breasted  grosbeak,  cowbird, 
redstart,  wood  pewee,  woodpeckers,  kingbird,  cuckoo,  oven- 
bird,  bluebird,  humming-bird,  chickadee,  chewink,  great- 
crested  flycatcher,  brown  thrasher,  yellow-bellied  wood- 
pecker, tree  sparrow,  white-throated  sparrow,  white-crowned 
sparrow,  fox  sparrow,  brown  creeper,  thrasher,  vireos,  ori- 
ole, purple  finch,  junco,  warblers,  yellow  hammer,  winter 
wren. 

8.  Roadside  fences.  —  Bluebird,   flicker,   kingbird,   red- 
headed  woodpecker,    goldfinch,   white  -  crowned   sparrow, 
field  sparrow,  vesper  sparrow,  song  sparrow,  white-throated 
sparrow. 

9.  Thickets.  —  White-throated   sparrow,   song    sparrow, 
Maryland  yellow-throat,  chickadee,  junco,  chewink,  brown 
thrasher,  white-crowned   sparrow,  field   sparrow,   catbird, 


* 

APPENDIX.  213 

Wilson's  thrush,  warblers  (in  migration),  winter  wren  (in 
migration),  chestnut-sided  warbler. 

10.  Pine  woods.  —  Warblers,  kinglets,  chickadee,  brown 
thrasher,  whippoorwill,  white-crowned  sparrow,  crossbills, 
purple  finch,  nuthatch,  woodpeckers. 


II.     SIZE   COMPARED   WITH  THE  ROBIN. 
SMALLER  THAN   THE  ROBIN. 

1.  Less  than  half  as  large.  —  Kinglets,  chipping  sparrow, 
goldfinch,  chickadee,  nuthatch,  warblers,  winter  wren,  least 
flycatcher,   humming-bird,    tree    sparrow,   field    sparrow, 
brown  creeper,  yellow-throated  vireo,  warbling  vireo. 

2.  About  half  as  large.  —  Swift,  red-eyed  vireo,  oven-bird, 
crossbills,  wood  pewee,  purple  finch,  song  sparrow,  junco, 
indigo-bird. 

3.  More  than  half  as  large.  —  Phcebe,  bluebird,  waxwing, 
downy  woodpecker,  barn  swallow,  bank  swallow,  cliff  swal- 
low, vesper  sparrow,  white-crowned  sparrow,  fox  sparrow, 
white-throated  sparrow,  bobolink,  oriole,  scarlet  tanager, 
snow  bunting. 

ABOUT   THE   SAME   SIZE   AS   THE  ROBIN. 

Rose-breasted  grosbeak,  cowbird,  red-headed  woodpecker, 
hairy  woodpecker,  yellow-bellied  woodpecker,  chewink, 
great-crested  flycatcher,  red  -  winged  blackbird,  catbird, 
thrushes,  kingbird. 

LARGER   THAN  THE   ROBIN. 

Yellow  hammer,  kingfisher,  crow,  grouse,  brown  thrasher,- 
whippoorwill,  meadow-lark,  cuckoo,  night-hawk,  keel-tailed 
blackbird,  blue  jay. 


214  APPENDIX. 

III.  COLORS. 

COLORS   STRIKING   OR  BRIGHT. 

1.  Blue  backs.  —  Blue  jay,  bluebird  (azure   blue),  nut- 
hatch (slate-blue),  kingfisher  (slate-blue),  indigo-bird,  black- 
throated  blue  warbler,  barn  swallow  (steel-blue). 

2.  Chestnut  or  red  breasts.  —  Bluebird,  robin,  crossbills 
(male),  scarlet  tanager  (male),  chewiuk. 

3.  Yellow  or  orange  throats.  —  Blackburnian  warbler,  Ma- 
ryland yellow-throat,  summer  yellow-bird,  yellow-throated 
vireo. 

4.  Yellow   or   orange  breasts.  —  Yellow  -  throated  vireo, 
summer  yellow-bird,  goldfinch,  oriole,  meadow-lark,  Black- 
buruian  warbler,  Maryland  yellow-throat. 

5.  Red  patch  on  top  or  back  of  head  in  males.  —  Ruby- 
crowned  kinglet,  woodpeckers,  kingbird. 

6.  Red  heads  (entire  head  and  neck  red  or  madder  pink).  — 
Red-headed  woodpecker,  purple  finch  (old  males),  crossbills 
(males). 

7.  Birds  wholly  or  largely  black  (males).  —  Crow,  black- 
birds, cowbird,  redstart  (salmon  patches  on  breast,  wings, 
and  tail),  bobolink  (whitish  patches  on  nape  of  neck  and 
back),  rose  -  breasted  grosbeak  (carmine  patch  on  breast, 
belly  white),  chewink  (white  breast,  brown  sides),  oriole 
(orange  below). 

COLORS   DULL  OR  PLAIN. 

1.  Upper  parts  olive-green. — Breast  unspotted:  Kinglets 
(patch  of  red  or  yellow  in  crown),  vireos  (top  of  head  un- 
marked), tanager  (female),  crossbills   (females).     Breast 
spotted  :  Oven-bird  (crown  patch  orange-brown  bordered 
with  black). 

2.  Upper  parts  olive-gray.  —  Cuckoos  (tail  very  long,  bill 
curved),  great-crested  flycatcher. 

3.  Upper  parts  dusky  grayish-olive.  —  Pbxsbe  (length  about 


APPENDIX.  215 

seven  inches),  wood  pewee  (length  about  six  inches),  least 
flycatcher  (length  about  five  inches). 

4.  Upper  parts  broim.  —  a.  Back  without  markings  of  any 
kind:  Indigo-bird  (female),  brown  thrasher  (breast  spotted, 
tail  very  long),  Wilson's  thrush  (breast  spotted,  tail  short), 
hermit  thrush  (breast  spotted,  tail  short  and  red),  winter 
wren  (back  barred). 

b.  Back  more  or  less  streaked :  Meadow-lark  (below  yel- 
low with  black  collar),  female  rose-breasted  grosbeak  (rose 
of  male  replaced  by  saffron  yellow),  bobolink  (female  and 
male  in  winter,  huffish-yellow  below),  purple  finch  (female), 
brown  creeper,  grouse. 

Sparrows  :  c.  Breast  unspotted  in  adult :  Chipping 
(crown  brick  red),  white-throated  (yellow  spot  in  front  of 
eye),  white-crowned  (crown-cap  of  five  lines),  field  sparrow 
(rusty  look). 

d.  Breast  spotted  or  streaked  :  Song  (no  white  on  tail), 
tree  (breast  with  spot  in  centre,  cap  reddish). 

5.  General  color  chiefly  black  and  while.  —  a.  In  large 
patches  or  areas  :  Snowflake,  bank  swallow,  rose-breasted 
grosbeak  (male),  redstart  (male),  chewink  (brown  sides), 
red-headed  woodpecker  (head  and  neck  red). 

b.  In  stripes.     Black  and  white  creeper. 

c.  In  spots  (above,  white   below)  :  Hairy  woodpecker, 
downy  woodpecker. 

6.  Yellow  band  across  end  of  tail.  — Waxwing  (high  crest). 

7.  White  band  across  end  of  tail.  —  Kingbird  (low  crest). 

8.  Crown  and  throat  black  (size  small).  —  Chickadee  (back 
dull  ash-gray). 

9.  General  color  sooty.  —  Chimney  swift. 

10.  General  color  slate.  —Catbird,  junco  (belly  and  outer 
tail  feathers  white). 

BRILLIANT    MALES    CHANGING    TO    DULL    COLORS    OF    FE- 
MALES IN  AUTUMN. 

Bobolink  (becomes  almost  sparrowy  in  appearance),  gold- 


216  APPENDIX. 

finch  (becomes  flaxen-brown  above  and  brownish-yellow  lie- 
low),  scarlet  tanager  (becomes  greenish-yellow),  yellow- 
rumped  warbler  (becomes  brownish). 

BIRDS   SHOWING   WHITE   ON  TAIL  FEATHERS  IN   FLIGHT. 

Meadow-lark,  vesper  sparrow,  junco,  chewink  (white  tri- 
angles on  corners  of  tail),  rose-breasted  grosbeak,  several 
warblers,  kingbird  (white  crescent  bordering  tail). 

IV.  SONGS. 

SINGERS. 

1.  Particularly  plaintive.  —  Bluebird,  white-throated  spar- 
row, hermit  thrush,  meadow-lark,  wood  pewee. 

2.  Especially  happy.  —  Bobolink,  song  sparrow,  goldfinch, 
indigo-bird,  chickadee. 

3.  Short  songs.  —  Robin,  chickadee,  bluebird,  Maryland 
yellow- throat,  meadow-lark,  great- crested  flycatcher,  whip- 
poor  will,  white-crowned  sparrow. 

4.  Long  songs,  with  definite  beginning,  middle  and  end.  — 
Hermit  thrush,  indigo-bird,  thrasher,  chewink,  song,  field, 
tree,  fox,  white-crowned,  and  white-throated  sparrows. 

5.  Long  songs,  without  definite  beginning,  middle,  and  end. 
—  Purple  finch,  catbird,  goldfinch,  warbling  vireo. 

6.  Long  loud  songs.  —  Oriole,  scarlet  tanager,  oven-bird, 
rose  -  breasted    grosbeak,    chewink,   winter    wren,   brown 
thrasher. 

TRILLERS. 

(Saying  tee-ka-tee-ka-tee-ka,  or  words  to  that  effect.) 
Low.  —  Redstart,  summer  yellow-bird,  black  and  white 

creeper,  junco,  chippy,  brown  creeper,  swift  (saying  chippy- 

chippy-chirio'),  nuthatch. 

Loud.  — Yellow  hammer  (if-if-if-if-if-if-if),  kingfisher 

(alarm),  oven-bird  (saying  teacher). 


APPENDIX.  217 

V.  PECULIARITIES  OF  FLIGHT. 

Conspicuously  tail-steering  :  Keel-tailed  blackbird. 

Undulated  flight:  Goldfinch,  woodpeckers,  snowbird,  blue- 
bird. 

Circling  flight  :  Swallows  and  night-hawks. 

Labored  flight :  Bobolink,  meadow-lark,  sparrows. 

Fluttering  flight  :  Chimney  swift. 

Particularly  direct  flight :  Robin,  crow,  keel-tailed  black- 
bird, kingfisher,  oriole,  blue  jay. 

VI.  BIRDS  WITH  HABIT  OF  SONG-FLIGHT. 

Cowbird,  bobolink,  oven-bird,  bluebird,  kingbird,  swift, 
woodpecker,  red-shouldered  blackbird,  indigo -bird,  song 
sparrow,  Maryland  yellow-throat,  meadow-lark,  kingfisher, 
cuckoo,  goldfinch,  night-hawk,  purple  finch. 

VII.  MARKED  HABITS. 

1.  Phlegmatic,  meditative,  fond  of  sitting  quietly.  —  Wax- 
wing,  robin,  thrushes,  white-throated  sparrow,  meadow-lark, 
wood  pewee,  woodpeckers,  swallows,  kingfisher. 

2.  Restless,  constantly  flitting  about.  —  Winter  wren,  king- 
lets, chickadee,  warblers. 

3.  Loquacious.  —  Catbird,  purple   finch,  crow   blackbird, 
blue  jay,  red-eyed  vireo,  warbling  vireo,  oven-bird,   swift, 
chippy,  bobolink. 

VIII.   BIRDS  THAT  WALK  INSTEAD  OF  HOPPING. 

Keel-tailed  blackbird,  red-winged  blackbird,  crow,  par- 
tridge, cowbird,  oven-bird,  meadow-lark. 


218  APPENDIX. 

IX.   SHAPE  OF  BILL  ADAPTED  TO  FOOD. 

1.  Short  and  stout,  for  cracking  seeds.  —  Grosbeak,  cross- 
bills (crossed  for  getting  out  spruce  and  pine  seeds),  purple 
finch,  indigo-bird,  junco,  snow  bunting,  bobolink,  sparrows, 
chewink. 

2.  Long  and  slender  for  holding  worms. — Thrushes,  war- 
blers, orioles,  kinglets,  brown  creeper. 

3.  Hooked  at  end  to  hold  insects.  —  Vireos,  flycatchers. 

4.  Long  and  heavy  for  drilling  holes  in  trees.  —  Wood- 
peckers. 

5.  Slender  and  delicate  for  reaching  insects  at  bottom  of 
flower  tubes.  —  Humming-bird. 

6.  Large  and  long  for  holding  fish.  —  Kingfisher. 

X.  WHERE  CERTAIN  BIRDS  NEST. 

1.  On  the  ground.  —  Meadow-lark  (meadows  and  fields), 
white  -  throated  sparrow,  partridge,  snow  bunting,   night- 
hawk,    bobolink,   junco,  oven-bird,  song   sparrow,  hermit 
thrush,  Maryland  yellow-throat,  black  and  white  creeper, 
chewink,  whippoorwill,  vesper  sparrow. 

2.  In  holes.  —  a.  Holes  in  trees  and  stubs:  Woodpeck- 
ers, nuthatch,  chickadee,  bluebird,  great-crested  flycatcher. 

b.  Holes   in   river   and   other   banks  :  Kingfisher,   bank 
swallow. 

3.  In  orchards.  —  Kingbird,  goldfinch,  waxwing,  summer 
yellow-bird,  chipping  sparrow,  catbird,  robin,  blue  jay,  red- 
start, cuckoo,  least  flycatcher. 

4.  About  houses,  sheds,  and  barns.  —  Robin,  phcebe,  eave 
swallow,  chimney  swift,  bluebird  (in  knot  -  holes  in  out  - 
houses  or  in  bird  boxes),  chipping  sparrow. 

5.  In  bushes.  —  Cuckoo,  chipping  sparrow,  catbird,  rose- 
breasted  grosbeak,   red-eyed  vireo,  Wilson's   thrush,  red- 
winged   blackbird,   song   sparrow,  yellow   warbler,  indigo 
bunting,  brown  thrasher. 


APPENDIX.  219 

6.  In  low  trees.  —  Tanager,  chestnut-sided  warbler,  yellow 
warbler,  redstart,  red-eyed   vireo,  purple    finch,  kingbird, 
humming-bird,  least  flycatcher. 

7.  In  high  trees.  —  Robin,  oriole   (especially  in  elms), 
crow,  crow  blackbird,  purple   finch,  vireos,  wood  pewee, 
Blackburnian  warbler,  crossbills,  humming-bird. 

8.  In  other  birds'  nests.  —  Cowbird,  cuckoo  (rarely). 

9.  In  crevices  of  logs  or  stumps.  —  Winter  wren. 

10.  Under  bark  on  trees.  —  Brown  creeper. 

XI.   BIRDS   THAT  ARE   SEEN  IN   FLOCKS  WHEN  NOT  NEST- 
ING. 

Cedar-bird^night-hawk,  bobolink,  white-throated  sparrow, 
junco,  chickadee  (small  parties),  nuthatch  (small  parties), 
blue  jay  (small  parties),  red-headed  woodpecker,  crossbill, 
purple  finch,  bluebird,  goldfinch,  kinglet,  warblers,  snowbird, 
blackbird,  chimney  swift,  crow,  swallows,  vesper  sparrow, 
tree  sparrow,  grouse. 


BOOKS  FOR  REFERENCE. 


A.O.U.  Check-List  of  North  American  Birds,  1895, 82.00  ; 
abridged  edition,  25  cents.  L.  S.  Foster,  New  York. 

Audubon,  John  James.  Birds  of  America  ;  Ornithological 
Biography.  (Both  out  of  print.) 

Baird,  S.  F.,  T.  M.  Brewer,  and  R.  Ridgway.  A  History 
of  North  American  Birds.  5  vols.  Little,  Brown  & 
Co.,  Boston.  $48.00. 

Bendire,  Chas.  E.  Life  Histories  of  North  American  Birds. 
2  vols.  Smithsonian  Institution,  Washington.  §15.00. 

Chapman,  Frank  M.  Handbook  of  Birds  of  Eastern  North 
America.  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  New  York.  83.00 ; 
pocket  edition,  83.50.  Bird-Life.  D.  Appleton  &  Co., 
New  York.  81.75.  With  colored  plates,  85.00. 

Coues,  Elliott.  Key  to  North  American  Birds.  Dana  Estes 
&  Co.,  Boston.  87.50. 

Elliot,  Daniel  G.  The  Gallinaceous  Game  Birds  of  North 
America.  Francis  P..  Harper,  New  York.  82.50. 

Merriam,  Florence  A .  Birds  of  Village  and  Field.  Hough- 
ton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  Boston.  82.00. 

Minot,  H.  D.  The  Land-Birds  and  Game-Birds  of  New 
England.  Second  edition,  edited  by  William  Brewster. 
Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  Boston.  83.50. 

Nehrling,  Henry.  Our  Native  Birds  of  Song  and  Beauty. 
2  vols.  George  Brumder,  Milwaukee.  Unbound, 
816.00 ;  bound,  818.00-822.00. 

Nuttall,  Thomas.  A  Manual  of  the  Ornithology  of  the 
United  States  and  Canada.  (Out  of  print.)  A  Popu- 
lar Handbook  of  the  Ornithology  of  Eastern  North 
America,  being  a  new  edition  of  the  Manual  of  Orni- 
thology revised  and  annotated  by  Montague  Chamber- 
lain. 2  vols.  Little,  Brown  &  Co.,  Boston.  87.50. 


222  APPENDIX. 

Ridgway,  Robert.     A  Manual  of  North  American  Birds.     J. 

B.  Lippincott  Co.,  Philadelphia.     $7.50. 
Wilson,  Alexander.    American  Ornithology.    (Out  of  print.) 
Wright,   Mabel   Osgood.     Birdcraft.     The  Macmillan  Co., 

New  York.     $2.50. 
Wright,  Mabel  Osgood,  and   Elliott  Coues.     Citizen  Bird. 

The  Macmillau  Co.,  New  York.     $1.50. 

PERIODIC  \LS. 

Auk,  The.  A  Quarterly  Journal  of  Ornithology.  Published 
for  the  American  Ornithologists'  Union  by  L.  S.  Foster, 
New  York.  $3.00  per  annum. 

Osprey,  The.  An  Illustrated  Monthly  Magazine  of  Orni- 
thology. The  Osprey  Company,  New  York.  $1.00 
per  annum. 

BOOKS  CONTAINING  ORNITHOLOGICAL 

ESSAYS   AND   SKETCHES. 
Bolles,  Frank.     Land  of  the  Lingering  Snow  ;  At  the  North 

of   Bearcamp    Water ;    From   Blomidon    to    Smoky. 

Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  Boston.     $1.25  each. 
Burroughs,  John.     Wake-Robin  ;  Winter  Sunshine  ;  Birds 

and  Poets  ;  Locusts  and  Wild  Honey  ;  Pepacton  ;  Fresh 

Fields  ;    Signs   and   Seasons  ;    Riverby.      Houghton, 

Mifflin  &  Co.,  Boston.     $1.25  each. 
Miller,  Olive  Thorne.     Bird  Ways  ;  In  Nesting  Time  ;  Little 

Brothers  of  the  Air  ;  A  Bird-Lover  in  the  West ;  Upon 

the    Tree-tops.      Houghton,   Mifflin   &   Co.,   Boston. 

$1.25  each. 
Robinson,  Rowland  E.     In  New  England  Fields  and  Woods. 

Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  Boston.     $1.25. 
Torrey,  Bradford.     Birds  in  the  Bush  ;  A  Rambler's  Lease  ; 

The  Foot-Path  Way  ;  A  Florida  Sketch-Book  ;  Spring 

Notes  from   Tennessee  ;   A   World   of  Green   Hills. 

Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  Boston.     $1.25  each. 


INDEX. 


AMERICAN  goldfinch,  76-80. 
Arbitrary  classification  of  birds  de- 
scribed, 211 -219. 

Baltimore  oriole,  52-54. 

Bank  swallow,  165,  166. 

Barn  swallow,  55-57. 

Bay-winged  bunting,  171,  172. 

Bee  martin,  83-85. 

Belted  kingfisher,  57-60. 

BUI,  shape  of,  adapted  to  food,  218. 

Blackbird,  bronzed,  20-27. 
crow,  20-27,  107. 
keel-tailed,  20-27. 
red-winged,  89-92,  107. 

Blackbirds  and  orioles,  general  char- 
acteristics, 209. 

Blackburnian  warbler,  186,  187. 

Black-capped  chickadee,  42^15. 

Black-masked  ground  warbler,  191- 
193. 

Black-throated    blue    warbler,    187, 
188. 

Black  and  white  creeping  warbler, 
184,  185. 

Bluebird,  14-16. 

Blue  jay,  69-75. 

Bobolink,  27-32,  107. 

Bronzed  grackle,  20-27. 

Brown  creeper,  176, 177. 

Brown  thrasher,  150-153. 

Bull-bat,  169-171. 

Bunting,  bay-winged,  171, 172. 
snow,  144,  145. 

Bush  sparrow,  174, 175. 

Catbird,  18-20. 
Cedar-bird,  112-115. 
Chestnut-sided  warbler,  190, 191. 
Chewink,  115-119. 
Chickadee,  black-capped,  42-45. 
Chimney  swallow,  16-18. 

swift,  16-18. 
Chip-bird,  60-66. 
Chipping  sparrow,  60-66. 
Chippy,  60-66. 
Classification,  by  colors,  214-216. 


Classification  by  localities,  211-211 

by  marked  habits,  217. 

by  nesting  habits,  218,219. 

by  peculiarities  of  flight,  217. 

by  shape  of  bill,  218. 

by  size,  213. 

by  song,  216. 
Cliff  swallow,  166. 
Colors,  classification  by,  214-216. 
Cowbird,  105-108. 
Creeper,  brown,  176, 177. 
Creepers,  general  characteristics,  210, 

211. 

Crossbills,  166-169. 
Crow,  10-13. 

rain,  46,  47. 

blackbird,  20-27,  107, 108. 
Crows  and  jays,  general  characteris- 
tics, 209. 
Cuckoo,  46,  47. 
Cuckoos,  general  characteristics,  208. 

Devil- down-head,  100-105. 
Downy  woodpecker,  99, 100. 

Eave  swallow,  166. 

Field  sparrow,  174,  175. 
Finch,  grass,  171,  172. 

purple,  122, 123. 

Finches,  general  characteristics,  209. 
Fire-bird,  52-54. 
Flicker,  48-51. 
Flight,  peculiarities  of,  217. 
Flycatcher,  great>cre8ted,  163-165. 

kingbird,  83-85. 

least,  87-89. 
Flycatchers,  general  characteristics, 

Fox  sparrow,  175, 176. 

Goatsuckers,  general  characteristics, 

208. 

Golden-crowned  thrush,  132-138. 
Golden  robin,  52-54. 
Golden  warbler,  179,  180. 
Goldfinch,  American,  76-80. 


224 


INDEX. 


Grackle,  bronzed,  20-27. 
Grass  finch,  171,  172. 
Great-crested  flycatcher,  163-165. 
Grosbeak,  rose-breasted,  153,  154. 
Grouse,  ruffed,  32-35. 

Hair-bird,  60-66. 
Hairy  woodpecker,  92-88. 
Hangnest.  52-54. 
Hemlock  warbler,  186,  187. 
Hermit  thrush,  202-205. 
Humming-bird,  ruby-throated,  36-40. 
Humming-birds,  general  characteris- 
tics, 209. 

Indigo-bird,  119-122. 

Jay,  blue,  69-75. 

Jays,  general  characteristics,  209. 

Junco,  138-140. 

Keel-tailed  blackbird,  20-27. 
Kingbird,  83-85. 
Kingfisher,  belted,  57-60. 
Kingfishers,  general  characteristics, 

208. 
Kinglets,  140-144. 

general  characteristics,  211. 

Lark,  meadow,  40-42. 
Least  flycatcher,  87-89. 
Localities,  classification  by,  211. 

Marked  habits,  217. 
Martin,  bee,  83-85. 

sand,  165,  166. 

Maryland  yellow-throat,  191-193. 
Meadow-lark,  40-42,  107, 108. 
Myrtle  warbler,  189,  190. 

Nesting  habits,  classification  by,  218, 

219. 

Night-hawk,  169-171. 
Nuthatch,  white-bellied,  100-105. 
Nuthatches,  general  characteristics, 

211. 

Orange-throated  warbler,  186, 187. 
Oriole,  52-54,  107, 108. 
Orioles,  general  characteristics,  209. 
Oven-bird,  132-138. 

Partridge,  32-35. 

Peculiarities  of  flight,  217. 

Pewee,  wood,  85-87. 

Phoebe,  80-83. 

Pigeon-holes  for  perching  birds,  206, 

207. 
Purple  finch,  122, 123. 

Kain  crow,  46,  47. 
Red-eyed  vireo,  124-129. 


Red-headed  woodpecker,  159, 160. 

Redstart,  180-184. 

Red-winged    blackbird,    89-92,    107, 

108. 

Reed-bird,  27-32. 
Rice-bird,  '27-32. 
Robin,  4-10. 

golden,  52-54. 

Rose-breasted  grosbeak,  153, 154. 
Ruby-throated  humming-bird,  36-40. 
Ruffed  grouse,  32-35. 

Sand  martin,  165, 166. 
Sapsucker,  yellow-bellied,  1CO-1C3. 
Scarlet  tanager,  146-160. 
Shape  of  bill  adapted  to  food,  218. 
Size  compared  with  the  robin,  213. 
Slate-colored  snowbird,  138-140. 
Snowbird,  slate-colored,  138-140. 
Snow  buntinp,  144, 145. 
Snowflake,  144,  145. 
Social  sparrow,  60-66. 
Songs,  classification  by,  216. 
Song  flight,  217. 
Song  sparrow,  66-68. 
Sparrow,  bay-winged,  171,  172. 

bush,  174,  175. 

chipping,  60-66. 

field,  174, 175. 

fox,  175,  176. 

junco,  138-140. 

social,  60-66. 

song,  66-68. 

tree,  172,173. 

vesper,  171, 172. 

white-crowned,  173,  174. 

white-throated,  109-111. 
Sparrows,     general     characteristics, 

209. 

Summer  yellow-bird,  179, 180. 
Swallow,  bank,  1G5, 166. 

barn,  55-57. 

chimney,  16-18. 

cliff,  166. 

eave,  166. 
Swallows,     general     characteristics, 

210. 

Swift,  chimney,  16-18. 
Swifts,  general  characteristics,  208, 
209. 

Tanager,  scarlet,  146-150. 
Tanagers,     general     characteristics, 

210. 

Tawny  thrush,  198-202. 
Thistle-bird,  76-80. 
Thrasher,  brown,  150-153. 
Thrashers,    general    characteristics, 

210. 

Thrush,  golden-crowned,  132-138. 
hermit,  202-205. 
tawny,  198-202. 


INDEX. 


225 


Thrush,  veery,  198-202. 

Wilson's,  198-202. 

Thrushes,     general   characteristics, 
193-197,  211. 

means  of  distinguishing,  197. 
Titmouse,  42-45. 
Tits,  general  characteristics,  211. 
Towhee,  115-119. 
Tree  sparrow,  172,  173. 

Veery,  198-202. 

Vesper  sparrow,  171,  172. 

Vireo,  red-eyed,  124-129. 

warbling,  131,  132. 

yellow-throated,  129,  130. 
Vireos,  general  characteristics,  210. 

Warblers,  blackburnian,  186, 187. 

black-masked  ground,  191-193. 
black-throated  blue,  187, 188. 
black  and  white  creeping,  184, 

185. 

chestnut-sided,  190, 191. 
golden,  179,  180. 
hemlock,  186,  187. 
Maryland  yellow-throat,   191- 

193. 

myrtle,  189,  190. 
orange-throated,  186,  187. 
redstart,  180-184. 
summer,  179,  180. 
yellow,  179, 180. 


Warblers,  yellow-rumped,  189, 190. 

general     characteristics,     178, 
179,  210. 

where  to  look  for,  179. 
Warbling  vireo,  131, 132. 
Waxwing,  112-115. 
Waxwings,    general    characteristics, 

210. 

Whippoorwill,  155. 
White-bellied  nuthatch,  100-105. 
White-crowned  sparrow,  173, 174. 
White-throated  sparrow,  109-111. 
Wilson's  thrush,  198-202. 
Winter  wren,  155-159. 
Woodpecker,  downy,  99, 100. 

hairy,  92-98. 

red-headed,  159, 160. 

yellow-bellied,  160-163. 
Woodpeckers,  general  characteristics, 

208. 

Wood  pewee,  85-87. 
Wren,  winter,  155-159. 
Wrens,  general  characteristics,  210. 

Yellow-bellied  sapsucker,  160-163. 
Yellow-bird,  76-80. 

summer,  179,  180. 
Yellow  hammer,  48-51. 
Yellow-rumped  warbler,  189, 190. 
Yellow-throated  vireo,  129, 130. 
Yellow  warbler,  179, 180. 


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